Red Bloometh the Rose
by sortacrazi
Summary: the loss of the Grey Fang, Blake must learn how to live among and cope with a corrupting society. After buying a bookstore, she meets a blonde MMA instructor named Yang. New challenges arise as the SJP's apartheid and censorship bill gains popularity, and Blake must decide between love and survival. Cover art by possumomo. Trigger warnings: Character Death, Dark Themes, Violence
1. Prologue

Prologue

 _2018_

"No peace in segregation!"

"Acknowledgement for the Grey Fang!"

"Keep the humans and faunus unified!"

Among the many voices yelling is a young woman with long, wavy black hair and fiery golden eyes. Swept in the anger of crowd, a rush of passion drives her to reach up above her head. Plucking the end of the bow expertly within the pretty bow she'd made earlier that day, her arm swings dramatically as she pulls it loose. Undone, the ribbons takes to the skies, blown away by a gentle gale through the square.

Flags of a forward-facing grey lion roaring on a plain of blue billow with fervor. It was as if nature itself was adding its voice to the message of the Grey Fang, a united homo- and fauno-sapien organization not unlike a political party. They were many in the square, hundreds of faunus and humans cramping together before the local council house. Their petition was for the abolishment of the SJP, for the continued coexistence of the faunus and the humans.

They hold signs together, speak together. Their voices blend into one and bleed into the wind, carrying their words out as far as the gales of their rage would fly.

"No apartheid!"

"Freedom for both!"

She is Blake Belladonna, an orphan of human and faunus lineage – a dauntless, bold half-breed with all the passion and optimism the world would allow in a person. It was accurate to say her entire life was the Grey Fang. Her lineage, her beliefs, her past, all step in line to follow the mantras of the Grey Fang. So ingrained was her hope that she couldn't understand for a moment why tension crackles through the air. She ignores the feeling as it sends shivers down her spine, proudly and challengingly revealing her forward-facing cat ears.

"I am faunus a _nd_ human!" she cries out to the silent council house, glaring ferociously at its high-reaching gothic walls, at its gargoyles, at the stark white of its pillars and towers. "Love for both! Live as _one!_ "

Such zeal! Such power (she praises herself) that she manages to add to her voice – which cracks beneath the weight of her fiery outrage. At her side, a sunny blonde with a long-sweeping always-twitching monkey tail glances at her with a grin on his face, the light in his dark-grey eyes driving her to continue yelling madly.

"That's it!" he exclaims, impassionate.

 _How odd!_ she thinks, finding herself beaming back at him. _The newbie is praising me!_

She continues on. The crowd is pressing forth; Blake is pressing forth.

Her cat-like ears twitch and flatten slightly as something in her screams a warning. She hears a rumbling in the distance, offhandedly wondering at the thunder in the distance. Would it rain?

Chancing a glance to the sky, she frowns with confusion. Her heart races powerfully, smacking violently against her sternum as her golden eyes search for clouds in a sea of endless blue. The sun shines just lower than its peak and Blake's logical brain rejoices. What a beautiful day! A beautiful day for a beautiful purpose, and it would be today that they would finally change the world! However, not all of Blake shares this exalted rapture. Indeed, it seems that a primal and primeval voice is ushering her to go. Nausea bubbles like boiling water in her belly, threatening to come up her esophagus.

 _I'll get some water,_ she decides, and falls in behind the crowd. Her eyes pick out a cooler just a little ways down the street. Had she forgotten to eat earlier? It wasn't unlike her to get so taken away by her passions that taking care of herself would be entirely put from her mind. Splitting away from the crowd, she notices with idle curiosity that there was a vibration in the air. The thunder in the distance grew louder and louder. Claiming a pre-filled cup for herself, she downs it as she throws a look towards the council house.

A v-shaped flock of planes hurtle towards them, swiftly becoming larger and larger. Tiny specks drop from them as they fly overhead.

Blake's golden eyes go wide, but she has no time to yell out.

In the next instant, the city square erupts in garish hellfire. An explosion rocks through the city, protests turning to screams as the concussive blast sets fire to the council house and all of those surrounding.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 _2028_

The morning mantras play with a jarring volume, snapping Blake out of a nightmarish sleep. She stares out of her bedroom window, which looms adjacent her bed, peering out at the megaphone which hangs a meter away from her. She flirts with the idea of chancing the SJP's rage, wondering how hard one might need to strike in order to knock the blasted thing off the side of the brick wall entirely. Or shatter it, even - just so long as it shuts up!

The lady who speaks through the megaphone every morning rambles on and on a full minute, and the world stops to listen to her. Many stories below, people stand in ceremony on the sidewalks and cars halt in their rush to their next destination. Only when she utters, "United in Independence," does the world unpause. Cars blast off with furious speed, pedestrians attempt to dodge mad drivers who have no care to differentiate sidewalk and streetway.

A little sigh escapes Blake's lips. She rolls over to the other side of her bed, sliding her bare legs out into the morning chill. She cringes when her feet touch the floor, a little hiss whistling between her teeth. The glazed-over look melts away to frigid focus, golden eyes sharpening as she searches the garden of haphazardly strewn out clothes cast across her hardwood floor. She wonders why that particular habit won't die. All she's got are a plethora of black and white, beauty as dictated by the SJP.

Blake is twenty-eight years old now, a cautious woman nearly all the way through. Every now and then, there's a little remnant of the teen in her that drives her to do something _mental._ She hasn't been a part of the Grey Fang now since the incident, when the State ferociously levelled blocks upon blocks of buildings in an attempt to eradicate them. She'd found herself trapped without a place to run to herself, and in her despair, gave up hope of escape. Instead, she hides in view every day, a half-human half-faunus legally entitled to all the rights and freedoms as a human. It was very well, she decided, that half was less than three-fifths, or the compromise would not have worked in her favour. Even if she despairs her humanity.

She dresses herself with fatigue. Monotony is dangerously tiresome, she decides, realizing she's been in a funk lately. If she really wanted, she could go out and cure it. There was a cure for everything, nowadays. Anything that ails you, the State could take away, and all could be happy ever on!

What a sham.

Her bachelor apartment is simplistic and normal. There are no posters, nothing that stands out at all, except for a little pile of books that stack up at the foot of her bed.

For an English major working towards a Master's, not an uncommon sight. For a citizen of the State, particularly smutty.

But she didn't care, which was _exactly_ why she had committed another smutty scandal just a week before.

A giddy little smirk plays at the corner of her lips as she leaves her apartment, clad in a loose black blouse with a white tank top underneath, black slacks and shoes. It's a forty minute walk to the university from her building, and twenty minutes in between lies her scandal. A rundown shop beneath a dojo in the middle of downtown, hygienically aged, in the beginnings of looking tired. Blake loves it; as, for some reason, she loves all old and beaten-down atmospheres. The kicker, it's a bookstore.

She hardly minds the travel, retreating to the entertainment of her thoughts as she wanders down the starkly-coloured city streets. It's the first day in a long while that's sunny, she realizes, the constant rain breaking this morning for a lapse of sunshine. The temperature is almost too warm for a blouse – she's thankful it's so airy. As she walks, the exhaustion of many nights' worth of poor sleeping habits slowly morphs into waking energy.

When she arrives, there's a well-kept man waiting outside at the door for her. He must be the bank's man, arriving to hand her the keys she'd agreed to meet with a representative for. She's only a minute or two late, she realizes when her gaze flicks to one of the many propaganda screens hanging from the buildings all around. There's nothing but the ordinary morning mantras scrolling across the screen except for the time, faithfully set in the upper right-hand corner of every single screen. Nonetheless, the man looks frightfully annoyed when he notices her approach. Blake sees his dark eyes flick up at her ears, lingering a second longer than acceptable, a sneer etching into his lips.

"Hello," she greets, unbothered by his reaction. She's used to it now. Many humans and faunus alike are quite apprehensive of her, if not overtly insulting. "I'm Blake Belladonna."

"Yes," the man replies, straightening his coat. He plucks a jingling ring of keys from his pocket, holding them out to her. When she outstretches her palm, he drops them to her hand. Dark eyes glare at her sharply as he warns, "I'm surprised the State let you buy anything."

"The three-fifths compromise dictat-"

"Yes, yes," he interrupts rudely, waving her off and walking away.

Blake narrows her eyes at his retreating back. _Asshole._

Shaking her head, the half-faunus turns to her store, smirk returning. She steps towards it, trying a key in the lock and realizing she doesn't need to, the door swinging out a bit as she fiddles with the lock. She'll have to have it checked, she decides, turning the lever on the other side to confirm that the deadbolt does work.

When she walks inside, she realizes instantly why it was left open. Thunderous banging of people seemingly hopping and throwing themselves about maniacally fills the store with hubbub, shaking the ceiling dangerous. Her eyes widen at the ruckus, at how the chandeliers that light the store swing around with every new bang. Maybe it was unwise to buy a bookstore beneath a dojo, she tells herself, cursing her lack of forethought.

She goes about her opening duties with a sigh.

It's really not too bad. Directly in front of the door are rows upon rows of bookshelves chock full of books of all different kinds, a sight that elicits a real smile from her. She used to pass this store every day on her way to school, and when she'd heard that the old shop keep was selling it due to political discourse, she had to sweep in to save it. There were some people even in her own courses that would come here from time to time to buy or read books, which she thinks is encouraging. It'll pay for itself, she says to herself. And for her degree.

Going to the front counter, all she has to do is turn on the till, which isn't hard to figure out. It's just a simple computer with an old POS system. As she fiddles with it, she realizes that it takes catalogue of everything in the store that comes in and out as long as she scans it once.

 _That's easy,_ she decides, looking around at the front desk. It's really just a desk, comfortable enough to work at and sit at, which is really all she cares about.

The store _is_ a little dusty, though.

Before she settles in, she uses her morning energy to clean. There's a small room in the far back of the store that's locked when she finds it, and she fiddles with the keys a short time before figuring out which one opens the door. A mop, a broom and a couple of clothes accompanied by some clear lurk inside. She takes out all of them, and sets about her task: cleaning the small book store.

She finishes dusting the shelves after a good forty minutes, putting a little elbow grease into making the wooden bookcase's brown finish really shine. Afterwards, she decides to sweep. She gets about half-way through when she hears the door open at the front.

"Hello?" she calls, coming around a bookcase to see a woman dressing mostly in white. The woman's frozen blue eyes flick away from the stairs to the side of the store and to Blake. The half-breed feels a little jolt go through her, a hint of intrigue sparking in her when she notices the woman's clean white coat has a rebellious crimson lining on the inside that flares around her neck. The woman blinks slowly at her and Blake realizes she was staring. "Er, uh, how can I help you?"

"You must be the new store owner," the woman before her replies slowly, seemingly not taking notice of her question. Crystalline cerulean orbs with strands of frozen white behold Blake coldly, analyzing her for a moment. Blake suddenly feels like she's being scrutinized, withholding a flush of insecurity. She's thankful when the white-haired woman continues, "How do you find business is?"

"Slow today," Blake answers with a sheepish smile.

"It'll pick up," the woman returns, an attempt at being comforting evident in the soft way she speaks. "I'm actually here to see a friend of mine. She runs the dojo upstairs."

"Oh."

"But," the white-haired woman pauses, realizing her faux pas. "But I wouldn't mind looking at one book you might have. "It's 'To Kill a Mockingbird', by… " She trails off in search of answers.

"Harper Lee," Blake provides, knowing the book well. Thankfully, she had noticed during her dusting that the shelves were all organized by last name, without any tedious sub-sections for fiction or fantasy. She was able to bring the woman straight to the book on the shelf, the only copy left. It had a nice hard cover with some sort of black, velvet material. She plucks it from the shelf and holds it to the woman beside her. "Here."

Blake's eyes widen a fraction when she sees a dark look flit across the woman's face. Her florid lips pull down into a small, sad frown and her brow crinkles in the middle of her face. The frozen pools of blue that are her eyes melt for an instant, expressing a sorrow and solitude so deeply rooted that Blake's heart breaks for the human. Her long pianist fingers gingerly withdraw the book from the half-breed's hand, thumb trembling as she brushes the pad of the digit along the soft material. Blake's golden eyes fall upon her left ring finger, the golden band resting their dark in contrast to her skin. How had she not noticed before?

"It's a good book," the half-breed states, eager to dispel the awkwardness in the moment.

An eruption of noise by the stairs jolts them both, however, saving them any more embarrassment. Many feet stomp down the rickety old stairs on their way out of the store - not one of them staying to look through her shelves or buy something, Blake notices with a twinge of annoyance. One last human comes charging down the stairs, vaulting from the fifth floor by pushing off of the rails and landing with a heavy _thunk!_ on the grey hardwood floor.

"This _is_ a book store," Blake grumbles, glaring at the offending woman.

If Blake was surprised by the color on Weiss's coat, she was absolutely stupefied in comparison to the woman that straightens to height now. Her hair is a cascading, twisting and flipping unruly mess of yellow fire that flows like a cloak down the length of her back. Ferocious violet eyes meet her golden ones, familiar passion igniting in the strands of darker purples and burning pinks that pierce her collected façade. She rises to her full height, and Blake is made to witness this Amazon before her, a bronze-skinned testament to physical supremacy – no doubt chiselled from stone by some great artist many hundreds of years before. She dresses in light blue jean with white tears along the thighs and a loose yellow muscle shirt with a black heart emblazoning her left breast.

Blake shuts her mouth, for she had been gawking. "You don't have to be so noisy."

A look of realization melts the steel of her expression, and Blake wants to cry out when there's regret twisting the features of the blonde.

"My bad!" she exclaims, her voice loud in itself. Her voice has a note of song, her tone low and overtly feminine, not unpleasantly nasal. "Are you the new owner?"

"Obviously," the white-haired woman jabs, moving towards the blonde. "Buffoon. You really ought to adjust your manners."

Blake's brow rises at the change in the white-haired girl's demeanor, who looks instantly affronted by the blonde.

The blonde is untouchable, though, beaming a sweet lopsided grin at the woman. "If I did that, who would you have to lecture?"

"Hmph," the woman snorts derisively but a little smile melts into her cold expression.

Blake feels like she's intruding, casting her gaze helplessly out one of the front windows. Can't she just meet someone today who isn't overly emotionally expressive?

"What's your name?"

The half-breed jumps at the sudden question, noticing the amazon's closeness. She feels a rush of victory when she realizes she doesn't have to look up at the blonde, exalted vainly by her own physique. Instead, the blonde is on eye-level with her. Wide violet eyes look into hers, and she suddenly feels much larger, much grander than she really is.

"Blake," she answers softly, mindful of the fluttering in her belly.

The blonde is unperturbed by her aloofness, striking an open hand out at her and cheerfully exclaiming, "Well, Blake, I'm Yang!"

Blake can't help but smile lightly at the blonde's childlike cheer. She takes the hand, squeezing the strong, fingerless-gloved appendage. Yang squeezes back, though Blake assumes unintentionally, noticing the power in the firm muscles of her fingers.

"I'll try to keep it down from now on," she promises, winking at her. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Thank you," Blake sighs, releasing Yang's hand after a moment. "The very nature of a book store is violated by clamor."

Yang's eyebrows rise and Blake kicks herself internally for the way she spoke. "That was poetic! Do you write?"

"I do," Blake admits, flushing. Blunders like this could get her in trouble if she'd done it in front of the wrong person. "Actually I'm working on a book right now."

 _Why did I tell her that?_ Her face is burning now.

That lopsided grin of Yang's flashes her way, and Blake's heart thumps powerfully.

"You should show us sometime," the blonde says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the white-haired woman. Blake had nearly forgotten about her. "We like a good book from time to time. By the way, that's Weiss."

"Nice to meet you," Weiss says politely. She shoots a sorry look towards Yang, admitting, "We really ought to go, though, Yang. Your bike was due out of the shop an hour ago…"

"Oh yeah!" Yang cries, as though she'd completely forgotten. She shoots an apologetic look to Blake, "She's right, gotta go! It was nice meeting you, though. I think you and I will get along just fine!"

Her kindness is touching.

Blake accepts a bill of lien from Weiss without really noticing it, and they rush out the door. The half-breed stands in the middle of the front section of the store, watching where they'd left with satisfaction. They were nice people, she decides. She hadn't even noticed them looking at her ears – and surely they must've!

Blake's ears twitch when she thinks about them. She heads back to the front counter, opening the till to put Weiss's offering inside. When she realizes it's a hundred-lien bill, her eyes nearly pop from her skull.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Business had proven to be more of an afternoon affair. Between three and five o'clock was when most people poured into the store, and Blake had barely managed to keep up. Her first day reeled in a little over sixteen hundred lien worth of sales, which was far above her budget line. The number had given her a thrill that she rode until two in the morning, hours after the last customer had left. After locking the door, Blake decided to work on her manuscript. When she couldn't concentrate on that, she decided to work on poetry instead.

The next day, Blake makes her way to the store a little later than usual. She hadn't managed to pull herself out of bed until late morning, dragging herself from her sheets and out onto the chill of the ground at around ten o'clock. Not that she had slept much, her nightmares of fire and screams keeping her from relaxing the rest of the night. She brings her laptop along with her, planning to add the bit of poetry she wrote into her digital catalogue. When she reaches the store, a customer leaves just before she enters.

Blake's eyebrow rises when she sees he's carrying a book with him. When she goes inside, she sees Yang organizing her desk, tabbing out of the POS program of the till.

She stops at the door. "What are you doing?"

Yang glances up at her and a kind smile dimples her cheeks. "Shop usually opens at nine and I figured you wouldn't want to miss your morning customers. A lot of the people who come to my dojo go to the university, so they need a book or two every once in a while. So I opened for you."

Blake finds herself stupefied by the blonde once more. Her golden eyes slide across the amazon's visage, appreciating the tightness of her dark blue jeans and the many colors of her tie-dyed shirt. The half-breed lingers on her shirt, appreciating the many different exploding colours – blues, pinks, purples, and reds, all mingling in sharp, rippling designs across the fabric. She can't help but smile back at the blonde, asking without thinking, "Would it kill you to be in uniform?"

"It would!" Yang exclaims, looking down at herself. There's an appreciative expression on her face as she smooths the shirt over her abdomen. "God forbid I have to look as boring as the rest of you. The SJP has an awful sense of style."

The half-breed snorts, quirking her brow. "When I was a kid, tie-dye wasn't stylish."

"Same," Yang replies with a wink. "The times change."

"I don't think it'll ever be more than camping shirt in my books," Blake admits, moving towards the counter. She drops her laptop bag on the counter, watching the blonde fold a little cloth reeking of citrus cleaner in her hands and feeling a little pang of guilt. "You know, you didn't have to do that. I wouldn't have minded so much if I lost a sale or two."

Yang scoffs. "That's not very _entrepreneurial_ of you, Blake."

The half-breed rolls her eyes, leaning against the counter and propping her chin up with her hand. Never once does the blonde's eyes stray from her own, which Blake is entirely grateful for. It's like the human has absolutely no care in the world for Blake's extra pair of ears. Even as they twitch and swivel, Yang seems not to pay attention, gaze lingering on her face, violet eyes flicking between eyes as she decides which one she'll look into.

"I'm an English major, not a business major," she deadpans, earning a lopsided grin in response. When she realizes that she really doesn't know too much about her upstairs neighbour, the half-breed asks, "So what did you study? Or what are you studying for, if you're still in school?"

Yang's smile dies a little, startling the dark-haired woman a little. She shakes her head, telling her, "Actually, I'm a high school dropout."

That comes as a surprise to the half-breed. Yang's eyes shine with a measure of intelligence. She speaks with a sharp wit even though she speaks slowly, annunciating each syllable with a slight drawl. It was a lazy, self-assured way of talking that Blake couldn't help but find incredibly attractive.

"Explain," she demands, pushing herself up from the desk. "There's no way it's a grades issue."

Yang smirks at that. "What if it was?"

"It wasn't," Blake insists. She's absolutely sure it's not.

The blonde runs her fingers through her hair, chuckling a little bit – more to herself than at Blake. Was the situation making her uncomfortable? The dark-haired woman didn't feel bad at all for that. Everyone needed to be a little bothered from time to time. Drawing someone out of their comfort zone was an honor, especially if they let you.

Yang let her. She met her golden eyes, rebelling against the discomfort in the moment, rebelling against a little voice that tells her to be nervous. Blake likes that, likes watching her come into her own. Yang takes full responsibility for who she is, and fearlessly tells her, "I had some family issues back then, and school didn't matter so much to me. So I skipped a lot and then I dropped out when I got the dojo upstairs."

Blake can't help but smile at her. "You must be a good person."

"Huh?"

"You gave up something to take care of your family."

It was Yang's turn to roll her eyes. "Hardly. School wasn't big on my list anyway."

Blake's about to make a comeback when a yawn tears through her. She covers her mouth, her ears flattening back against her head and her eyes watering as she draws in breath. Her eyelids slide closed as the yawn continues. When she's done, she notices that Yang is still watching her, though her violet eyes are soft with concern.

"Didn't sleep well last night?"

"Mmm," Blake hums sleepily, nodding.

Yang comes around from behind the desk, startling Blake with the abruptness of her movement. The half-breed watches her go to the coat rack just by the door, plucking off a worn out, light brown leather jacket for herself.

"Coffee or tea?" she questions.

Blake's eyebrows rise. "What?"

Yang repeats, "Do you drink coffee or tea?"

"Tea," Blake answers, ears swivelling forward with interest.

The blonde flashes a smile, bobbing her head and telling her, "Okay, I'll be back soon."

Moving around the desk, she plops into her desk chair and slides the desk's only drawer. Her hand-written poem is there on a piece of lined paper, and she takes it out.

 _Might as well finish it…_

Poetry was a good way to flex her creative muscles, anyway. She takes a pen out from her laptop bag, clicking it open and puts the tip to the page. The words take a few moments to come to her, her brain slow from lack of sleep.

 _'I saw you perish in garish gold light,_

 _And never have I forgotten that day_

 _Which turned our hopes to inferno, alight_

 _Our words, our dreams, laid to ashes; decay.'_

She winces a little bit, noticing the words don't fit well together in pentameter. Not as well as she likes, anyway. When she's about to crack down on it, the door opens once more and in comes an angel, heaven-sent with tea and coffee. Yang comes to the desk, glancing at the pages she's writing on with curiosity. Blake attempts to look normal and not panicked when she folds the paper over and returns it to the drawer.

She fails.

"What's that?" Yang questions.

"School stuff," Blake answers.

"Mhm."

There's a measure of disbelief on the woman's face, but to Blake's relief she doesn't ask any more questions. She sets the tea in front of her and drops a little bag filled with – god bless her – cream and sugar. Taking off the lid of her drink, Blake purrs delightedly as she mixes a little of both into the steamy dark liquid. She notices Yang picked a pre-steeped tea for her, much to her satisfaction. She lowers her face to it, taking a deep breath through her nose. The spicy heat of ginger smell reaches her nasal passages, as well as a sweet, fruity smell.

"Ginger and peach black tea?" she guesses.

Yang beams at her. "You got it."

"I take back my earlier opinion of you," Blake says, wrapping her chilly fingers around the cup. Her gaze flicks up at Yang from beneath the thickness of her lashes, a Cheshire grin tugging at her lips. "You're a goddess, not a loud buffoon."

The woman snorts indecently. "Glad I could change your mind. Maybe I should take that tea back."

Blake nearly cries out, looming protectively over the cup. The reaction causes the woman to give her another one of those melting lopsided smiles, and the dark-haired woman realizes she loves it. She wonders how she can make Yang smile a little bit more, just like that…

Eyes flicking to the POS, Yang inhales sharply when she looks at the time. "Woops! Gotta get ready for a class soon!"

Blake doesn't get a chance to say good bye, her mouth hanging open as the blonde practically flies up the stairs. She sticks her lip out in a pout, glaring at the red door at the top landing. No amount of pouting to herself brings the blonde back, and Blake realizes she was acting childlike. She sits back in her chair, taking a sip of the tea. It's interesting, she decides, enjoying the heat of the ginger with the sweetness of the peach. As she tastes it, her eyes open and close suddenly as a revelation strikes her conscious mind.

 _I was definitely just flirting with her._

Shamelessly, too.

Blake crosses her legs, contemplating that, a little impressed with herself. She's come a long way since her teenaged years of constant self-repression. No longer afraid of rejection or hatred, Blake was able to come to terms and even accept her sexual identity not too long after settling into the city. It was probably one of the only things the SJP didn't frown on, she realizes with an ironic quirk of her brow. In fact, a non-socio-normative sexuality almost seems encouraged.

She casts her gaze up to the ceiling as she ponders why that was.

The SJP had its roots in gender and sexual identity, which came into its own only ten or fifteen years ago as the angriest and loudest generation in history stampeded its way across the world. Anything that offended anyone was taboo – and, of course, this was the generation that took offense to everything. You were straight? You were mocked. You were male? You were misogynist. You didn't dye your armpits? You were anti-feminist. You were cis-gender? Well, then you were a binary gender oppressive-ist.

Blake smiles, shaking her head at the last one. Of course, she'd made it up, but the whole movement was ridiculous when you looked back on it. The world was made mostly of untoward pacifists at the time, and so those pacifists ended up getting their rights trampled on them as the tide of social justice slammed down upon them. Most of the anger cooled over the years, but as different voices popped up, things became abolished.

That movie offended you? Abolish movies.

Color in the city offends you? Abolish those colours.

Can't decide on a proper name for the country? Call it 'State'.

And everyone's _happy_ in their ludicrous country lacking self and individuality. _Happy_ in same-ness. _Happy_ in their stark whites and blacks, in their _happy_ little homes where nothing can bother them anymore.

That's what the Grey Fang had been around to try to fight. But when protesting became too upsetting, they went and abolished that, too.

The Grey Fang had been a symbol of the joining of human and faunuskind. The two species had feuded for generations until just before the turn of the century, which saw the unification of the two and an end to all the bloodshed. The once-terrorist organization, the White Fang, found new management and changed its ways – incorporating more humans and eventually changing their name to represent their new progressive ideals. Blake had been born into it, raised by human and faunus alike in a time of harmony.

Breaking her out of her thoughts, the front door slams open abruptly. She watches as a dozen or so teens clamor into her bookstore. Much to Blake's pleasure, some of them were even faunus, dressed in loose-fitting clothes and chatting as they travel up the stairs. They line up before the red door, and Blake watches with interest as they respectfully wait outside, talking loudly but not being much of a bother elsewise.

Ear swivelling forward, she listens to them chat among themselves.

"I wonder what we'll be learning today."

"Well it's martial arts, dumbass. That's what we're learning."

"You don't need to be an ass."

She doesn't suppose she should be surprised, turning her attention away.

"Hey, I saw Yang with a Schnee yesterday."

 _As in Senator Schnee?_

That catches her attention. Twitching ears betray her interest as she sets her laptop up on her desk, gaze flickering up to them occasionally – she really can't help herself.

"Really?"

"Yeah," one of the kids drawl. "White hair, blue eyes. That's the way they are, right?"

Blake blinks at that. _Weiss?_

She had heard the name Schnee tossed around before during the protests. She knew they were big into politics, their wealth and power giving them an edge with the SJP. She hadn't ever met one, though.

 _It would explain the hundred lien bill,_ the half-breed reasons, frowning to herself.

The day goes on rather quickly, with Yang being kept to her dojo as her classes run back-to-back seemingly nonstop until the very end of the day. It's only at nine o'clock at night that the blonde emerges, her hair unrulier than usual and her face flush. There's a light sheen of sweat on her skin as she comes down the stairs, her shirt and jeans slung over her arm in favour of a tank-top and tight shorts.

Blake's eyes run over her appreciatively. Hard, toned muscle lines every inch of her body. Even as she relaxes, you can see the striations of her powerful muscles beneath her skin – especially in her arms and legs. She has abs one could grate cheese on, visible through her top, she must've worked her ass off for. The half-breed can't keep her eyes from wandering up further, gaze falling upon her breasts. The swells of her cleavage leave Blake's mouth dry, and she swallows as the blonde approaches.

Yang doesn't seem to notice her looking, violet eyes filled with exhaustion. "I'm gunna be heading home now. Do you want a ride? You're closing soon, right?"

 _Oh, I'd_ love _a ride,_ Blake thinks and instantly goes red-faced.

"Uh…"

Yang raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Blinking, Blake nods a little too enthusiastically, voice breaking when she replies, "Yeah, I uh… No. I'm okay. Thank you, though."

Her arm goes akimbo and she leans on hip out, showing off the curve of her powerful thigh and behind. She gives Blake a no non-sense look. "Don't stay up all night, you hear? Make sure you get home soon and r _est._ "

The half-breed smiles lightly. "Sure thing, _mom_."

Yang's eyes roll but she grins back at her, striding towards the door. Blake gets an eyeful of her hindquarters as she leaves. This time when the blonde turns around, she's caught gawking.

Eyes widening in bewildered apology, Blake's ears flatten against her head. _I'm such a pervert._

"See you later, kitten," Yang teases with a wink.

The blonde opens the door, purposefully adding a sway in her step that shows off the muscles of her legs and let her shorts ride up _just so_ , before closing the door behind her entirely. Blake's mouth goes dry before she realizes her jaw had literally dropped.

 _That… That just happened._


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Her dreams fill up with smoke and flame. Screams reverberate through the air and crackle through her like electricity. Explosions rock through her like the deep, resounding concussion of a drum. The water in her hand is frozen in comparison to the heat that rolls off on her, washing through her. She runs. She's not sure where – to the fire, or away. Everywhere is consumed by the yellow and orange tongues, blazing up to the heavens and the whistling jets as they rocket across the sky.

Salty, cold tears fall down the swell of her cheek. She can't take their cries anymore. She can't take the pain. Eventually, she stops running. The flames don't touch her, extinguishing at her feet wherever she goes. She curls in on herself, a soundless shriek ripping through her though it never pierces the ears of anyone else.

 _Burn me, too!_ Desperately, she screams in the confines of her brain. Maybe someone would hear her thoughts, which are louder than the roaring fires, louder than the agonized moans of her family aflame. What a pleasure it would have been to burn with them. A wall is up between her and the people who raised her, which she can pass through unscorched, unsinged. _Take me, too!_

"Blake…"

The sound of her name rouses her slightly. Her eyelids flutter at the sound. Heat turns to gentle warmth, not all around but resting softly on the nape of her neck. It shakes her gently.

"Blake, wake up," softly, the voice speaks through to her, dragging her from her nightmare. The half-breed's golden eyes stare blearily forward, into lilacs, into a gently blooming lavender. She's warm, but she cools to flame with her presence, as though the fire was hers to control, hers to put out.

Blake's gaze moves over her face slowly. The next breath she takes is fresh with the scent of oranges and gasoline, surprisingly calming in its contrast. She takes in every red wrinkle and plump bulge of her lips, trailing up to the long roundness of her nose. Her eyes are almond-shaped, her lashes thick and dark without mascara. Her cheeks are slightly plump, and it makes her look so childlike, so young. Her jaw is pronounced by the strength of the muscles that surround it, another curve she adores.

"You're so beautiful," the half-breed mumbles sleepily, nuzzling into the round of her own bicep. Her eyes slide closed once more. She relaxes her shoulder beneath the gentle pressure of Yang's hand, urging subconsciously for her thumb to slide lower against her collar bone. Deep in her chest, a rumbling purr vibrates through her. "Hmm…"

The next shake is slightly firmer.

Blake's eyes snap open when she realizes what's happening. Mortified, she doesn't meet Yang's gaze, though she notices the lopsided smile she has on her face from her peripherals. Crimson roses blossom across her cheeks and forehead, scorching her skin brightly.

"Wake up, lady-killer," the blonde murmurs teasingly, amusement rife in her tone. "It's six am and you were absolutely, one-hundred percent passed _the fuck_ out. And, not in a bed. Time to rise and shine."

"No…" she groans at herself, her hands finding her face as she tries to hide herself. What she wouldn't give to die, literally now. Right now. "God, that's so embarrassing."

"Yeah," Yang replies. There's a toothy grin on her face. "I bet it is."

"Ugh…"

"I definitely wouldn't do it."

Blake moves her fingers so she can glare at her from between them. "Shut up."

There's a disjointed, rolling throaty noise across the desk. It takes a moment for Blake to realize she's trying to purr.

" _Please_ shut up."

Yang laughs, "Alright, alright."

Blake releases a small sigh. When the heat drains from her face, she lets her hands fall away from her face. She rises slowly. She doesn't trust herself enough to look at Yang, keeping her gaze training on the uneven finish of her desk with iron resolve. There's pages strewn all across her desk, the floor, everywhere. She grimaces at the mess, concluding she must've done it herself while she was sleeping.

"You write all this?" Yang asks, bending to pick up the pages on the other side of the desk.

Blake nods. "Yeah. It's…a long story. Thankfully, I only printed one chapter."

Lilac eyes flicker up at her when she says that. And then, "Oh, you didn't number them."

"Yeah." The half-breed winces. "I uh… wasn't expecting to drop them."

"It's not too long, at least," Yang comforts, lightly organizing the pages she finds by tapping them softly on the wood of her desk. The blonde sets them down, smiling at the dark-haired woman. "Hey, when was the last time you ate?"

The question startles her.

"Uh…"

"I didn't see you eat anything at all yesterday," Yang says slowly, her voice dropping just an octave above a growl. Her violet eyes narrow in her direction. The hairs on the back of Blake's next stand erect as a chill passes through her. "Minus the tea, did you have anything?"

Pursing her lips, Blake admits quietly, "No, I didn't."

"Wanna get burgers?"

Blake blinks at that. "At six in the morning? What's open?"

"I know a place," Yang answers. There's a light in her eyes that twinkles at Blake, emotions that ignite and burn in the pink strands of her eyes. Golden eyes behold the faintest, most endearing flush of rosiness across Yang's cheeks. Lilac orbs flick away from her for the briefest second, betraying her nervousness. A rush goes through Blake, who smiles wide up at the woman. How special she is made to feel, subjecting the blonde to being timid. "I can take you there on my bike. We get a bite, hang out for a bit before open. Maybe a tea, too, if you're good."

Blake rolls her eyes at that last comment. "I'd love to go."

And all was worth it for the grin she got in return. "Awesome. I'll bring the bike around."

Blake watches her go, sighing when the door closes behind her. She stretches out the muscles in her arms and legs, effectively star-fishing in her chair. She yawns noisily before standing up. Her body is heavy with exhaustion and she's nauseated, too. Maybe riding on a motorcycle wouldn't be the best idea…

Well, she'd already said yes.

Plucking her keys off the desk, she walks out of her store and locks the door behind her. Turning around, her jaw drops once more when she sees Yang come around the corner. She's wearing a black and yellow motorcycle helmet and that old leather jacket, which she has undone and billowing around her. She pedals easily up the sidewalk.

Blake bursts out laughing.

"Seriously?!" she cries, and her sides aching as she tries to catch her breath.

Yang stops beside her, propping her leg out dramatically and leaning the bike's weight into her planted foot. She flicks up the visor of the helmet, her grin wide. "Yup! Motorcycle's still in the shop. They screwed up the wheel balancing so I couldn't take it back."

Attempting a straight face, it only takes seconds for Blake to snort and dissolve into giggles. She shakes her head at herself and the situation. Even as a child, she'd never rode the handlebars of a bike. When Yang holds out an open-faced helmet to her, she rolls her eyes.

"What? Safety's important," Yang says. She doesn't look at all bothered by the half-breed who can't get a hold of herself. In fact, she looks endeared. Blake notices the softening of her eyes, the way her violet eyes flick at her from a half-lidded vantage, a tenderness she hadn't expected shining at her. After a moment of staring at one another, Blake's laughter slowly ebbs away but a smile more genuine than any she'd ever had before tugs at the corners of her lips.

Yang shakes the helmet a bit, exclaiming suddenly, "Put it on! Let's go!"

"Okay, okay," she chuckles, taking the helmet from her. She flips it so that she can take the lining out around where her ears would be, heartwarming when she sees Yang had already done so. Blake fits the helmet on her head, adjusting the straps so the buckle fit comfortably under her chin. "All good?"

The blonde inspects her by sticking a finger underneath her chin and the strap. It's firm against the tug of the digit. "Perfect. Hop on."

Blake has absolutely no idea how to do this. She comes to the front, bracing herself with her hands in between the handlebars.

"It works better if you hold onto my wrists, or the handlebars," Yang informs her.

"Your hands are there!"

"Yeah," the blonde retorts, a devilish look in her violet eyes. She grins. "So?"

Blushing, Blake prefers to use the woman's wrists. They're firm, sturdy, when she pulls her bottom up onto the handlebar, wiggling her hips a bit so the metal isn't digging into her tailbone. When she's on, Yang pedals forward a little bit. The little movement nearly throws Blake off, her hands tightening hard over the woman's wrist.

Yang snorts as she tries not to laugh. "Hold on to me!"

"I wasn't expecting that!" she defends herself, finding that the more she leans back, the sturdier she is. As Yang pedals a little more, she feels her against her back. Yang is sitting up straight to see over her, and Blake feels her breath lightly at the nape of her neck. A bump knocks Blake's head lightly back against the woman's shoulder, and devilishly, she stays there.

The world whizzes by them as Yang pushes them faster and faster. Walkers move out of the way for them, shooting them glares or odd looks as they pass. Blake doesn't care. The wind against her body, billowing under her shirt and through her wavy black hair, elevates her far beyond any glee she's ever felt before. She feels like she's flying, her legs cast ungracefully outwards as she tries to balance herself. Every bump that jostles her elicits a loud and childlike guffaw. Yang is laughing, too.

Blake chances a look at the blonde. Her heart has never beat so powerfully, thrills have never gone through her so vividly. When she looks at Yang and when she in turn is looked at by Yang, she feels more alive than ever. The darkness flees when the blonde finds a place near her, beside her. Blake realizes there's no place for shadows if Yang is to be around. There's nothing that can dim Yang's light. No stranger has ever been kinder; has ever been more charming; has ever been so unyieldingly vibrant than she.

With her visor still up, Blake can see her face perfectly. The tightness of the helmet smushes her bangs to her forehead. Light catches her lilac eyes and they burn a bright, passionate magenta as they gaze fearlessly forward. She adores the undying grin, the single dimple that appears as it stretches lopsided from cheek to cheek. Her nose is rosy from the chill of the wind riding against her face.

There's an elation that moves through her, almost to tears. Happiness, she identifies. Happiness so strong and genuine that holding it in is just not an option. It bursts from her in giggles, and she realizes her cheeks ache as she can't hold in the smiles any longer.

It about thirty minutes of travel from the bookstore to the joint that Yang stops at. It's an old, rundown trailer restaurant with picnic tables strewn outside on gravel. A wooden fence that's only a couple feet tall lines it, and when they stop, they prop the bike up against it. Blake goes breathless when she looks over the beautiful sight behind the trailer. The grounds drops off only a foot from where the fence is, and plants cascade down a steep ravine with a river flowing tumultuous and rough at the very bottom. On the other side, there's a plain of long grass. There's three trees total in the grass. Grazing the land is a single palomino horse, tall and muscular as it lowers its head to the grass. The sky outlines every detail as it burns bright pink in the horizon, the colour of a trumpet's cry to announce the sun's return that day.

"Wow," the word tumbles helplessly from Blake's lips.

Yang stands at her side, her helmet cradled between the curve of her waist and her arm. The light brings out the orange in her hair, her hair practically igniting with the colour as she does look like a woman with flame for hair. Her eyes imitate the pink of the sky, her smile smaller now as she appreciates the scenery alongside her. "Not too many people come here anymore. I think I keep this place running."

Blake throws a look to her. "Not Weiss, too?"

The mention of Weiss makes her feel suddenly insecure. Hardening herself to the emotions that are welling up in her heart would leave her depressed for a long time, and she knows if she doesn't keep herself in check she might… might…

"No," Yang tells her, knowing exactly what's going through Blake's mind. Her eyes meet hers. There's so much honest in Yang that she can't keep the affection she feels out of her expressions, and Blake feels her heart once more. "This place I saved just for me."

The dark-haired woman smiles to herself as her gaze flicks back to the scenery, a pleased sigh passing softly between her lips.

"Okay," she whispers, and it's enough.

"I'll get us some burgers," Yang says, smiling at her as she leaves to go to the trailer.

Blake steps carefully over the fence, sitting on the top of it comfortably. It creaks once under her weight before accepting her presence. She stares out over the scenery, her eyes always flicking back to the horse. It shakes out its wild, tangled white mane as it raises its golden head from the grass. Its ears flick forward as it peers out into the distance, tail flicking a few times as flies bother its sides.

It occurs to Blake that Yang might not know what she's doing to her. She flushes, embarrassed at her own eagerness. Maybe Yang really just likes her as a friend, and only wants her around like that. In a day or so, Blake had become so swept up in the tidal wave of Yang to really think straight.

She can't help but smile at that.

Blake always considered herself an intellectual woman with sophisticated ideals, ones she put a lot of thought into. Childish concepts never really made the cut for her. She didn't believe in things like true love, let alone love at first sight.

When Yang returns, she's holding out a half-wrapped burger with all the condiments already inside. Blake's eyebrows dart up in surprise at the choices that were picked from her – the dressings fairly tame, everything on it she likes with absolutely nothing that she hates.

"I thought getting you a grilled fish burger would've been presumptuous," Yang teases with a grin. "So I didn't."

"Too bad," Blake sighs, meeting her gaze. "I love grilled fish burgers."

"Really?"

"Yes – tuna, if they have that in filets. Especially with mango chipotle sauce," the half-breed hums at her. She knows it's stereotypical of her to enjoy fish – but it was tasty! And there was no one in the world who could dislike mango chipotle. No one.

"I'll remember that for next time," Yang promises, taking a seat beside her on the fence. She watches the dark-haired woman take a bite, and Blake purrs softly to show her appreciation. "I did okay?"

"Mhm," Blake utters with her mouth closed, chewing and nodding with exaggeration. The patty of the burger is thick and positively one of the greasiest foods she'd ever eaten, but the meat was spiced with some kind of hot cayenne pepper or something because the flavor of it left a warm feeling in her mouth. The crispness of lettuce and tomato after are a pleasant cut to the heat, which in addition to the sharp taste of red onions made an absolutely delicious burger – even if it was beef. She swallows, noticing a light amount of ketchup in the after taste. "I love it. You know how to dress a burger."

"Damn right," Yang cackles, taking a bite of her own. Her eyes roll up behind her eyelids and she lets out a guttural "mmmmm" of appreciation.

Blake laughs. "That's an attractive look."

Yang snorts, nearly choking on her food as she tries not to laugh, flashing a smile at her instead. They eat together and talk mostly about nothing as the sun's golden rays begin to reach past the horizon, stretching up into the sky and casting light upon clouds they'd didn't realize were around earlier. Blake enjoys the warmth, closing her eyes and basking for a while when she finishes her meal.

She doesn't realize that Yang is staring at her until she murmurs, "You know… you're beautiful, too."

Warmth radiates to her cheeks from inside now, and Blake opens her eyes a little. There's a small, shy smile on her face as she looks down at her lap, her fingers tangling and untangling as she plays with each digit. Something courageous in her moves and she softly whispers, "You know… if you keep doing those things, I'm going to fall hopelessly in love with you."

The fence groans as Yang shifts closer, her arm brushing softly against Blake's as her palm claims the top of one of the half-breed's hands. Golden eyes go wide, her head snapping around to look into Yang's eyes. Blazing violet orbs burn at her but the blaze is unveiled, passionate emotion. There is nothing tame or conventional in any of the fibers that make Yang, and she proves it when she answers just as quietly, "That's what I'm hoping for."

A quivering breath leaves Blake's lips as Yang gives her hand a tender squeeze. They look out as the sun breaks out from behind the horizon, and at some point, Blake's hand turns over to squeeze Yang's back.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Before they come back from the burger joint, Yang insists on buying her a tea. It's a short ordeal, with Yang insisting on going inside and picking out another tea for her. Blake can't help but find it sweet, her trying to figure out the things that she likes. She stands outside the café with a small, content smile adorning her face, guarding Yang's bike and idly observing cars whiz by with tremendous speed. Instead of riding the handlebars again, they walked back – neverminding that doing so would make them late for open.

When Yang comes back out, she's got a coffee for herself and a tea in the other hand. Just as she opens her mouth to talk, the megaphones hanging about them ring a loud horn. Blake wince's her ears flicking back against her head painfully. She casts an angry glance at the nearest megaphone but stands straightly, waiting for the morning mantras to play like a good citizen. Cars come to a halt. Business is paused.

Yang, however, moves to her bike – not stopping like the rest of the city does. She throws a leg over the seat of her bike and plops down. Wide-eyed, Blake watches her, her jaw going slack. The blonde hardly notices, slurping noisily on her coffee, never sparing a single glance to the overhead monitors. She rocks herself back and forth on the bike, rolling an inch or two in either direction, waiting. After a moment or so the mantras end, and Blake can't help herself.

"What was that?" she blurts.

Yang looks up at her curiously. "What was what?"

"Do you _want_ to get arrested?"

The blonde grins. "For what? Not worshipping the SJP?"

"Well, ye-yeah!" the half-breed sputters, eyebrows rising. "I've never seen anyone get away with what you just did."

She just shrugs, replying, "The SJP hasn't taken away my personal freedom to not give a damn about them. Not yet, anyway. And I'll keep practicing it until they do."

Blake can only watch as she starts to roll forward, propelling herself along by her toes. A seed blooms in the pit of her stomach, fear rooting itself into her core. As someone with firsthand experience in how the SJP deals with those who don't "give a damn about them", she worries for Yang's well-being. Her safety. Was this just a game to her?

Running to catch up to her, Blake demands, "Don't you care about what could happen?"

"Nah," the blonde replies, handing her the tea. "And why should I? I'm not going to let the SJP dictate every nook and cranny of my life, and neither should you. The morning mantras are stupid propaganda."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," the half-faunus tells her, realizing how she must've come across. She raises the tea to her lips as she thinks about her next response. She suppresses the urge to moan when the scent of steeped orange pekoe tea strikes her nose, taking a deep sip of the beautiful and steaming liquid within the paper cup. Letting out a sigh, she meets Yang's pleased violet gaze with a worrying one. "Whether you like them or not, the SJP are a very real threat that you can't stop. You could get yourself killed."

Yang shakes her head. "No way."

"Why?"

"It's not my style," the woman produces, but Blake hears a note of curious misery in her tone. Her violet gaze is downcast, thinly veiled rage simmering beneath the surface. She looks like she wants to say more than what she does next, "A government should be ruled by the people; not the other way around. I will not bend to adhere to a society I never agreed to."

Blake wonders how to respond to that when Yang takes her by surprise once more, her voice dropping an octave as she murmurs, "'Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore.'"

"You've read _Fahrenheit 451_?" the half-breed breathes, watching her companion take a slow, long sip of her coffee. "I can't believe you have. They banned that book last year."

"Yeah," Yang says, a small smile on her face. "I read it a long time ago. It's one of my sister's favourites. It changed the way I look at things, to say the least."

Blake smiles at that, realizing how wrong she was in her first impression of Yang. There was more to the woman than martial arts and noise. She realizes that the blonde is a woman with many quirks to offer the world, including a challenging opinion – one of the rarest things to find nowadays. "To be honest, I never took you for a reader."

"I read all the time!" Yang cries out, taking offense.

"Really? _All_ the time?" Blake's tone is playful.

Yang grins. "Yes! At least a book or two every few days."

"I don't even read that much."

"You're a student," the blonde justifies as they round the last corner before their store. "You don't have time to read like I do. Honestly, though, I tend to prefer the older stuff. The stuff they're banning for being too offensive. The new stuff is just too…"

She trails off, furrowing her eyebrows as she searches for a proper word.

"Jarring?" Blake provides, drinking her tea. It's cooled just enough not to burn her tongue, but the flavours of the tea are still vibrant from the steeping. There's a sweetness in the liquid that she realizes she adores. Did Yang put sugar in it? She never put sugar in her tea…

"Yeah!" Yang cries, rousing Blake from her thoughts. "Exactly. Jarring. It's like all media nowadays is all climax and no build up, you know? Explosions, final kisses, the end-game stuff all laid out in the first two minutes… There's no rhyme or reason."

"Another oldie," Blake notices.

Yang nods, informing, "Thomas More, if I remember correctly."

Blake blushes. "You got me there. I don't know who first coined that phrase."

"You should read _Utopia_ ," Yang tells her, winking. "It's a book an English major really ought to read."

Golden eyes roll dramatically at the teasing.

When the store comes into view, they notice a white-haired woman standing in the door. She's wearing a white dress that came down to her mid-thigh, along with a black blazer with a bright blue snowflake pinned to the lapel. Weiss has her arms crossed over her chest and her foot taps with lightning speed against the ground. The sound of sniffling reaches Blake's ears, which twitch in curiosity and concern. Yang picks up her speed a bit, and Blake's attention snaps to. There's a jealous nagging in the back of her mind that she represses, reasoning to herself that they've obviously known each other awhile.

"Hey Weiss," Yang calls to the woman. Her voice is high-pitched with cheer, and Blake almost didn't notice the concern that lay in her tone. She rides up alongside the white-haired woman, who eyes widen with relief at seeing the blonde.

When Blake walks up behind her, her blue eyes flick towards her self-consciously.

"Yang…" the woman murmurs, eyebrows knitting together. There's anguish in the red of her cheeks. "I… I need you. Something's happened."

Some sort of communication passes through them silently, its meaning flying over Blake's head. Yang stands up from her seat on the bike and dismounts, holding the bike out for Weiss.

"C'mon, we'll go somewhere quiet," Blake hears the blonde whisper comfortingly.

"I'm not riding that thing," Weiss mutters.

"You sure? You'll like it."

Weiss stares at Yang for a moment or two long before a heavy sigh drops from her, pride leaking from her posture. Blake's eyebrows rise when the woman's shoulders relax into a slight slouch, giving into the whims of the childlike blonde before her and throwing one leg over the bike. She's careful to smooth the skirt of her dress so her undergarments don't flash to the world, the tiniest of upward twitches tugging at her lip.

Yang smiles, content at that, and looks up at Blake. "I'll see you around, okay? Have a good day."

"Yeah," Blake murmurs, forcing a grin. "You, too."

And she watches them leave with a heavy heart. The special feelings she felt earlier die as quickly as she'd been made to feel them. She had been a fool to believe that Yang would be free to pursue – of course she was already taken. She felt stupid. So, so stupid!

Growling, she turns on her heel and nearly slams into the door, realizing she hadn't unlocked it yet. She does and storms inside. Today, the books bring her no comfort.

Blake was able to reason with her logical self. She knew that she wasn't being fair either to herself or to Yang by becoming jealous so early after meeting the blonde. It made no sense, really. Why should she even care? So what if she struck her as special? People had to be allowed to prove themselves before judgements could be made one way or another – and judgements _would_ be made, that was inevitable for all humans. Normally, she could reserve those judgements. Normally, she wouldn't have skipped to conclusions.

She drops into the chair behind her desk, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.

Appeals to logic be damned; Yang _was_ special. Youthful optimism and rebellious attitude clash inside of her sharp and well-learned brain – she was a person rare to find nowadays. Capable of reason, capable of looking past the propaganda and making her own deductions. Blake reckons that's why Yang seems not to care for her faunus heritage. A purposeful bias towards naïveté was her weapon against others – it was her weapon and her shield; to be childlike without being childish. Blake can't help but smile to herself despite her hurt. That quality of hers makes the half-faunus feel young again, reminds her of the days she herself deferred to her passion.

Blake glances to the tea she had set on her desk. She hasn't put sugar in her tea since she was fourteen, at least. She wonders why she ever stopped. She reaches towards it, taking a tentative, slow sip.

No, she should not have entertained the idea of being with Yang this early on. It had been foolish of her. She could hold Yang accountable for leading her on earlier, but that was about all. She still wants to be friends with the blonde, she thinks. A new perspective on things would be refreshing for her.

And Weiss… Weiss obviously deserves her. She's like Yang in that she doesn't pay attention to her faunus heritage and must be a good person, too.

Blake stands up quickly. The force of her movement slides the chair back roughly into the wall, but she pays it no mind. She goes into the rows of bookcases, her sharp eyes immediately catching the gold-embroidered calligraphy that reads 'More' along the spine of a small book. She takes it, marvelling at the age of the book as she returns to her chair.

Kicking her feet up onto the edge of her desk, she cracks _Utopia_ open. The book yawns dust and the crackling of old paper bending. Its browning pages smell of smoke.

When the next day bleeds into the present one, Blake hardly notices. She works away at a new thesis early in the morning, typing like a madwoman until her hands ache and she has to stop to stretch her fingers. She doesn't bother to close the store at all that night. Only two customers come in after midnight – thankful students, no doubt procrastinating in their work. She can't blame them, though. She'd been holding off on writing a proper thesis, unsure of what she had wanted to write about for her masters.

She was sure now.

The spirit of the inner humanitarian rears its head from nigh-on a decade of silence, reverberating from her fingers and into fruition in black pixels on a sea of white. Words come to her quickly, clumsily. She barely has enough time to write them before her mind skips on to the next thought. All the work she'd done before, she tosses aside. She wouldn't need it anymore.

Beside her laptop is the empty paper cup that had been filled with tea, cold from hours of not having anything to warm it. She didn't realize when she'd finished it last night, but she is grateful to the caffeine-high for fueling her work. One good thing did come of being delusional about Yang, at least. She was finally sure what voice she wants to write with, what position she could take in her writing that would empower her the most. Without even knowing it, Yang awoke inside her a lion that had been sleeping and forgotten for a long time. Now, in her waking, she claws her way up from the shadows and smoke to roar.

The morning mantras are the only thing that stir her from her work craze. Instead of stopping, she slams her laptop shut and unplugs its cord. The faithful little device gets carefully slid into her bag, which she pulls up onto her shoulder as she stands – almost all in one fluid motion. She won't be working today, she decides. She has to clarify with her university that her new work will be acceptable before she dives headlong into it – assuming, of course, that she was in full control of herself to be able to stop at this point.

Almost forgetting the catalyst of her newfound passion, she plucks _Utopia_ off the desk and slides it into her bag snug against her laptop. With that, she's off. She flies out the door, nearly smacking Yang with it as she exits. She does, however, send a cup of some blessed liquid splattering across the ground as a result. Wide violet eyes fly up to her own and her lopsidedly grinning mouth opens to speak, but a combination of anxiety and urgency drives Blake to hurry away from her.

"Hi-bye!" she calls out, half-apologetically half-jogging down the road. With a pang of guilt, Blake realizes Yang had been holding another tea for her.

Blake arrives at the school in record time. It's too early to go to the graduate committee for confirmation, so instead she drops in on one of her old professors' classes.

Glynda Goodwitch was by far the most controversial professor at Beacon University. Slight of frame, but monstrously tall in her heels, Goodwitch had a reputation for being cold and unforgiving of nonsense. Ironically in that regard, one of her two PhDs were in political science (the other in philosophy). Despite her reputation, students from all over the world would come to listen to her lectures. As a result, her classes had an exclusive dib on the largest lecture hall in Beacon, designed to seat upwards of seven hundred people. It was absolutely massive, so large that she had to use a mic to be heard all throughout.

Blake enters the hall as quietly as she can, slipping in behind one of the last students to enter before the door locks behind them. Surrounded by chairs and bodies, Glynda is a fearless monolith of political and philosophical knowledge. Her bright green eyes survey the crowd with cool, distant patience. She waits for everyone to take her seat, her eyes inevitably falling upon Blake, who sits on a step instead of standing in the back of the hall when all the seats have been taken. Her platinum blonde eyebrows furrow just a fraction, and Blake entertains the idea that perhaps she recognizes her.

With a brain like Glynda's, the half-faunus wouldn't have been surprised to learn if Goodwitch really did recognize her. The woman had made a show of memorizing a couple of her graduate students' dissertations to be taught in Blake's fourth year philosophy course, as kind of a bonding opportunity between the undergrads and those working on their PhDs already.

Moving along quickly, Glynda fixes the entire lecture hall with her intelligent stare. "Good morning, students."

Most people mumble something in returns, though it's not really necessary. Impatience manifests in a tick of Glynda's, her brow twitching but saying nothing. Blake always found that amusing. She would be polite and carry out formalities, even if they were an annoyance.

Evidently, Blake had picked a good day to join. On the board behind Goodwitch, a powerpoint flashes onto the screen the words, "Global Governance: Promises and Challenges". She remembers the outrage that went on in the community for her teaching this aspect of political science, as the SJP felt it as some kind of challenge to their power over the people. Glynda, under the excuse of welcoming the foreign students, was able to keep this part of the course by the skin of her teeth. It was a pride of hers that no other political science professor would dare teach.

"As you are all still fairly new to the idea of political science, I'll assume you're ignorant of this topic and start from the absolute bare bones," Glynda begins, pacing slowly from one side of her stage to the next. "Global governance is exactly as it sounds; a process of cooperative leadership among the world's nations. In your textbooks, it'll say something along the lines of, 'world governance is a movement towards political integration of transnational actors aimed at…' and so on. What you need to know is that it's a part of globalization, and if you talk about that carelessly you could be deported."

Blake blinks. The change of Glynda's tone is surprising, and not only to herself. A hum of unease follows that statement.

Glynda stares warningly up at her students before continuing, "As an academic and as your teacher, I feel it is my responsibility to warn you about the dangers that will follow you should you pursue the education of this topic. Take care of yourselves. If you must leave, do so now."

Silence follows.

Goodwitch waits, clasping her hands behind her back.

After a moment of this standstill, people begin to leave. At first it's only a couple, and then it's a handful, and then it's dozens. Unwavering in her resolve, Glynda waits for the very last student to leave the class. What's left of the hundreds is a meager bunch comprised mostly of faunus descent, as well as a few humans.

Glynda smiles wryly up at the doors, she mumbles something beneath her breath that Blake's acute ears manage to catch, "Truly, _political correctness_ makes sheep of us all…"

She takes a deep breath before clicking her powerpoint into the next slide.

"The rest of you, be careful. You're about to fall down the rabbit hole."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Glynda's lecture is wrapped up and the students have left, she walks around the desk on her stage and sits heavily into her chair. Patiently, Blake watches as the woman winds down, fascinating herself to observe this newer side of her old professor. Whether she has entirely forgotten Blake's presence or not, she gives no hint. Glynda's cool eyes close a moment as she resets. A moment passes by.

"Blake Belladonna," the professor utters softly.

Blake's ears twitch. She raises her head, golden eyes gleaming. "Yes."

Goodwitch's eyes slide open to look up at her. She pushes back from her desk, crosses her legs and clasps her hands in her lap. Gone was any hint of the exhaustion that had plagued her just seconds before, and she smiles.

"If I remember correctly, you switched your minor to philosophy," the professor recalls, impressing Blake. "And yet, here you are. Attending a political science lecture."

"That should be hardly surprising," Blake points out, standing up from the stairs. "Students come from all over the world to see you. I can't imagine it'd be easy to get approval for a student visa in this country, either."

Glynda's response is a hum, her brow quirking in acknowledgement of that. "Well, why have _you_ come? Shouldn't you be working on your master's thesis?"

It was moments like these that Glynda's true personality really shone through. The woman had dozens of things that she could be doing and certainly thousands of things more worth a space in her memory. Yet, Glynda had troubled herself to remember her students. Blake flushes a little, her ears swivelling back in embarrassment. She hadn't expected the professor to remember, let alone know that she had decided to pursue a master's with Beacon. Beneath the cool, collected exterior is a woman who cares absolutely for the well-being of her students.

"I'm actually here for that very reason," Blake informs her, recovering from her sheepishness. "I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in being my supervisor?"

Glynda's gaze becomes analytical. "I'm not part of the Graduate Committee."

"No, you're not."

"Neither am I an English professor."

Blake nods. "No, you're not."

Glynda leans forward in her chair a little bit as Blake approaches her, studying the half-faunus before her a moment longer before murmuring, "Interesting. What is the English thesis again? A literature study?"

"Something of the sort," the dark-haired woman explains, fidgeting with her bag a little. "I was going to do mine on the concept of gendered discipline, but I decided to go with something a little bit more… Well, not many people would approve."

The professor smiles. "Show me."

Obediently pulling her laptop from her bag, she opens it and sets it on Glynda's desk. The blonde wheels herself in to her desk, straightening as she uses the mouse pad to scroll to the top of the document. She pushes her glasses up to over the ridge of her nose, her eyes flicking back and forth as she reads. Blake looks down at her feet subconsciously as she waits, leaning her weight mostly to one side.

Glynda hums every so often as the minutes pass. Her face betrays no opinion one way or another as she goes on. Blake feels her ears flatten slowly against her head.

"It reads like you put this together just last night," Glynda states, glancing at the half-faunus over the brim of her glasses. "You did just put this together last night, didn't you?"

Guiltily, she murmurs, "Yeah… I mean, it's not nearly done yet."

"Clearly," the professor replies. Her eyes soften reassuringly after a moment. "Don't worry, Ms. Belladonna. It's not bad, but it certainly needs refinement. It's definitely more…narrative than how I'd write a thesis."

Blake nods, moving closer towards the desk. "Yeah. I thought I'd try something new and interesting."

Smirking, Goodwitch reclines back into her chair and crosses her arms over her chest, commenting, "Well, it is that. I can't wait to read it when it's finished. Are you submitting this as your proposal to the committee today?"

"Yes."

"You could be watch-listed for this, you realize?"

Wryly, Blake answers, "I'd be disappointed if I wasn't."

In that moment, Glynda's face changes. Something flashes in the green of her eyes that shines through the humor of a rebellious thesis – it was respect. She studies the dark-haired woman standing before her. For the first time that day, the professor isn't scrutinizing her. Blake feels a rush of pride in herself at the thought of being treated like a peer.

Closing Blake's laptop, Glynda hands the device back to her. She tucks it back into her bag, meeting the professor's gaze evenly, inquiring, "Will you help me?"

"Of course I will," Glynda responds without hesitation. "You'll never be able to get a thesis about censorship accepted by the board without faculty support. And, I don't know who else would be willing to help you in our selection of professors. Even the English ones."

Blake frowns. "That's why I have to do this."

"Hmm?"

There's a hollow pit in her chest that has been filling with despair for years. Despair at the past. Despair for the people. Despair for the government. Despair for the world in which they were living. There wasn't a single person who would speak out and be heard. Surely, the SJP snuffs out anyone with a voice as soon as they come into existence. But, maybe with enough help, Blake's voice will be heard. And maybe more people than Glynda will hear her.

"I met someone who inspires me," Blake says softly, flushing a little bit as her minds turns to Yang. "She's probably the bravest person I've met. She wears tie-dye shirts – you know how colourful those are? – and doesn't bother to stop and listen to the morning mantras. Even in public. She speaks to the reckless side of me. And now…"

"Now it's speaking back?"

"Something like that."

Glynda gives her a small, nostalgic smile. "We all have one of those in our lives. Hold onto that one. Maybe she'll help you with your thesis."

"Maybe," Blake muses, eyebrows rising a bit at the idea.

When silence falls between them, Blake senses it's time for her to go. She says a thank you and a good bye, turning to head out when Glynda suddenly asks her, "Do you know which color they started to censor first?"

Blake pauses on a step to look back at the woman. "No. Which?"

"It was red."

As she leaves, Blake wonders why that might've been.

Hours later, she walks away from the school. Today was a hard-fought battle. Glynda was correct – the committee had been very opposed to the idea of Blake's thesis being about censorship. One of the members had even said that the school wouldn't want to bring undue attention to itself from the government, and Blake would've been at a loss for words if she didn't have Glynda to back her up. The woman had appealed to their academic natures, her natural aptitude for talking serving Blake very well.

As she walks, a chilly gust of air picks up. She crosses her arms over her chest, glancing up at the darkening sky. At some point, it had gotten overcast. The day had been so busy for her that she hadn't noticed the clouds setting in overhead. The grey and the cold make her altogether too aware of the weariness in her body, and she sucks in a yawn as her mind dwells on not having slept in…a day or two? When did she last sleep?

She walks past her bookstore, chancing a glance on the inside. Weiss is standing in one of the rows of books – but Blake doesn't mind, the woman could have at least three or four more books if she wanted. What really catches her eye is on her desk – it's another cup of tea. Blake bites her lip, tearing her gaze away, a stab of guilt in her heart. Pressing onward, she hurries her step.

And slams right into someone.

A few someones, in fact. Three men who she'd heard walking through the alley but hadn't been really conscious enough of her own actions to avoid. The one in the middle caught her by the arms before she could pull away, ignoring her utterance of an apology.

"Hey boys, look what we've got here!"

The two others chuckle. "Is that a faunus?"

Blake furrows her eyebrows, looking up at the man who was still holding onto her. He has light hazel eyes and longish dark hair. Glancing around at the rest of them, they don't all look particularly different from each other – all wearing the same fad shaggy hair and dark clothes. The one holding onto her is the tallest of them, standing a full head taller than her. He leers down at her, and Blake feels uncomfortable down to the core. She tries to pry herself away but his fingers tighten around her arms.

"Let me go!" she demands, steel in her voice.

"What's a faunus bitch doing out here in the middle of the day?" the one to the left inquisitions upon her, jabbing at her side with his index finger.

Wincing, she snaps, " _Don't_ touch me."

"Whatcha gonna do?" the same one laughs.

Blake wriggles hard enough to loosen the tall one's hold just slightly, giving herself enough distance to knee him. She misses his balls but gets a good shot in at his pelvis, and he lurches forward with a grunt. His fingers don't loosen. Instead, her fighting only worsens things. He slams her against the wall of the building next to them. An unintelligible yell tears out of her lungs. The man that had been on the right slams his hand over her lips, silencing her as well as smacking her head back against the wall.

Her vision blurs for a second, a groan slipping from her lips as pain radiates out from the back of her skull. Faintly, she hears the little ring of a bell open and a gasp.

"She's got some spunk," the tall one growls, his eyes roaming over her hungrily.

A faint "Yang!" is yelled in the distance.

Dread fills her stomach with lead, her heart pumping faster as fear-induced adrenaline rips through her. She tries to struggle again but her limbs don't listen to her, her muscles weak and her movements uncoordinated.

"Do you think she's a cat?" the one on the right asks the others. "You ever wonder if, you know, they've got fur in other places?"

"Why don't we check?" the tall one suggests, "Hold her, boys."

They grab at her flailing arms and pin them behind her, eliciting a scream from the half-breed. The tall one's fingers curl into the fabric of her white blouse, and closes her eyes tightly when he rips the shirt open. Buttons pop off as her chest is forcefully exposed. Biting hard down on the hand over her mouth, she manages to give herself enough time to shriek, " _Help me!_ "

"Bitch!" the man cries out, slapping her with his now bleeding palm, splattering red across her face.

Heavy footfalls catch Blake's attention. She opens her eyes to see the blonde Amazon sprinting towards them at full tilt.

"Get away from her!" is the only warning the guy who slapped her had before one of her fists slams into the side of his head. The blow sends him crashing into the man holding her, and his hold is shaken. Loose, she drops like a sack, reflexes too affected by the blows to the head. She can only look up in shock as Yang faces off with the one who'd been on the left, the only one who had been able to react to her in time.

He swings for her face, but Yang tilts her head and his fist sails past her ear. She steps into him, her arm snaking behind his neck while she throws a kick into his legs. His legs fly out from under him as she simultaneously pushes him forward, her force slamming his face into the cement sidewalk. He lets out a loud gurgling shriek, blood spurting from his nose.

The tall one, recovering from being knocked into, throws a punch into her face. Yang doesn't have the time to avoid, taking the blow to the chin. Her head snaps to the side but the blow is hardly enough to stop her. She catches his next one with her left hand, stepping forward and throwing all of her weight into a right haymaker to the cheek. The blows spins him around and right off his feet – he tumbles to the ground, holding his face.

Yang stands between the three men on the ground, two of them crying and the other – the first one she'd struck – completely unconscious, and herself, too fearful to even have the sense to cover her chest. The blonde's shoulders flex as her chest heaves; she looks so ferocious that she might've even breathed fire. Wide golden eyes fix on her back as Blake struggles to stop herself from trembling all over.

"Get the fuck out of here," Yang orders, letting the two still-conscious ones pick up their friend. They don't give her the time of day to finish her sentence, so she yells after them as they run off, "If I see any of you here ever again, I'll do _worse_!"

Blake realizes she's hyperventilating. She can't stop panicking. She's never been…something like this has never…!

Yang strips her leather jacket off of herself, crouching down to her level.

Blake's gaze darts everywhere. Her lungs burn as she heaves for breath. Her head goes fuzzy, light, and her eyes start to ache.

"Blake," Yang says evenly, her voice soft. "Blake, look at me."

Tears well up in the half-faunus's eyes, and Blake wants to do nothing more than run away from this whole situation. It isn't until Yang's jacket rests over her torso that she can focus at all.

"See me?" the woman asks tenderly, violet eyes full of concern.

Blake does see her. Her blonde hair shimmers and flows down her back brighter than ever, despite the darkness of the day. Plump cheeks are rosy with the exercise of the moment before, her breathing even but swift. Yang beholds her with lavender orbs filling to the brim with care and a silent promise that everything would be okay. Slowly, the panic seeps out of the dark-haired woman, the screams inside silencing as she stares back at the blonde.

"Yeah," she breathes, her brow relaxing.

"Good," Yang whispers, smiling gently at her. "I'm going to touch you now, okay?"

When she doesn't move, Blake dumbly realizes she was waiting for permission. She nods her consent. Yang's fingers lightly feel around at the base of her jaw, her thumb brushing lightly over the blood smear across her face.

A crash of relief passes visibly through the blonde, who lets out a deep breath. "Thank god, that's not your's. I thought they might have cut you."

Her fingers move delicately in behind her head, careful not to move or press hard. Blake drinks in the scent of Yang, allowing the citrusy scent of her to bring her comfort. She's suddenly aware of her exhaustion, allowing her eyes to slide shut as Yang feels for any other injuries.

"Don't fall asleep," Yang sternly orders, drawing Blake from her reverie.

"Hmm…"

"Is she okay?"

Blake opens her eyes to gaze over at Weiss, who stands just a few meters away. Her arms are crossed over chest, her icy blue eyes fixing on her with concern. Her golden eyes fall to the gleaming band on her dainty ring finger.

"She has a concussion but I don't think she has any other head injuries," Yang replies, her hands sliding down onto Blake's shoulders. To Blake, she says, "You shouldn't be alone for at least twenty four hours. Can I take you somewhere? Your home?"

At the very least, the half-breed has the sense to feel a little embarrassment over her tiny apartment and shakes her head, whispering, "I'd prefer your playsche-"

She pauses, realizing her slur with a blush.

"You might be speaking funny for a little while," Yang informs her, reading her mind. "It's normal, especially if you are concussed."

"Shouldn't she go to a hospital?"

"No hoshpitalsh," Blake grumbles.

Yang gives a pointed look to Weiss. "You heard the lady."

The white-haired woman rolls her eyes, muttering, "Excuse me for thinking a professional ought to look at her."

"Ish okay."

" _Right_ ," Weiss mutters, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Blake and Yang look back towards one another at the same time. The blonde gives a wink and a small smile, offering a hand to her. Taking her hand, Yang pulls her carefully up onto her feet.

"It's only a twenty minute walk," Yang informs her, holding her forearm and leading her down the street. "But I'm not going to carry you, because you'll fall asleep."

Dopey Blake thinks it's appropriate to pout, so she does.

Smirking, Yang yells over her shoulder, "See you later Weiss! I'll call you sometime tonight."

"Yeah, yeah. Just take care of her."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Yang lives in a loft towards the outskirts of downtown. It was a gutted out factory with dull yellow brick walls and long overhanging lights, pinned up nearly two stories above them. The upstairs is just a platform at the height of a set of stairs, and the rest of the apartment is really just one large room. At some point during their walk, Yang's arm had slid around her waist. The blonde supports her weight effortlessly and without complaint, taking her over to the living room sectioned off only by a couch and a loveseat. The entire apartment is sunny and bright, its outside wall comprising only of windows. Blake looks outside, appreciating the view of the city and beyond it, the building so tall she could even make out the edge of the great metropolis.

"I'm gunna set you down on the couch and then get you some water," Yang tells her, and she hums her consent. Her head is pounding and the light aggravates her headache, which the blonde seems to sense – sliding some sort of lever down on the wall so that the windows would tint in response. "Dark enough?"

"Yes," she moans appreciatively, bleary gold eyes gazing up at her.

Light pink blooms across Yang's cheeks. She eases Blake down onto the couch, refusing to meet Blake's eyes until she's standing up again. The half-faunus watches her mouth open and close, enjoying every moment of the blonde's fluster.

Yang points with her thumb to the kitchen, her face bright with embarrassment as she utters, "I… Uhm, yeah."

And then she leaves to get her a glass of water.

Curling up on the dark brown couch, she cuddles into a pillow. Yang's scent is heavy here, she realizes, comforting the residual anxiety from earlier. Her eyes slide to a close, her fingers curling into the soft fabric. She listens as Yang moves about in the kitchen, hearing the tap running and then stopping.

"Hey, don't fall asleep," Yang chastises lightly, tapping her shoulder.

"I'm not," Blake whispers, though she would really love to. "I'm just enjoying this."

A sheepish, lopsided smile pulls across the blonde's face as she sits on the coffee table just in front of the couch. She holds a long glass full of water to her. Sitting up, the half-breed takes it from her, taking a slow sip. The water has an instantly revitalizing effect on her, the cool liquid working wonders on her exhaustion. Before she realizes, she's drunk the entire thing.

"Want some more?"

"No," she gasps, holding the glass close to her. She brushes her thumb along the side of it, enjoying the chill of the condensation. "I'm okay. I guess I just realized I haven't drunk water in a while."

Slightly more awake, Blake notices the pictures hanging on the walls. Art, photos, inspirational quotes immortalized upon canvas all hang around them. She sees a few of Yang and Weiss, but those are few and far in between. Most of the photos have pictures of a man that could've been Yang's father, his hair the same shade of blonde as her, and of a girl with dark red hair. She's in nearly every photo, Blake realizes, and she's beautiful.

The girl has stunning silver eyes and pale, near-translucent white skin. Her hair is so dark at the top that it almost looks black, but in some pictures where the light hits it just so, Blake sees the color is really a deep red, lightening to bright scarlet at the ends. She wears scores of different colors in the pictures but tends to prefer red, she thinks, as there's always some kind of red adorning her features.

"She's pretty," Blake comments abruptly, not really permitting the words to leave her – but they do nonetheless. She blushes at herself. "The red-haired girl, I mean. Is she a friend of yours?"

Yang's eyes flash when she looks at the pictures as well, and Blake realizes with a jolt that there's agony in those lavender depths. Her blonde eyebrows draw together as she stares off, thrust deep into her thoughts and far, far away. Tragedy laces her features and everything in the dark-haired woman screams for her to act.

 _Come back._

She reaches towards the blonde without really thinking about it, finding one of her hands resting lightly on her powerful thighs and lacing their fingers together.

"That's my sister," Yang whispers, rousing a little at the touch. Her eyes shift towards Blake's once more, fearlessly displaying her emotions. She gives a small smile, murmuring, "Her name's Ruby. And you're right. Ever since she was a little girl, she was the pretty type. Kind of a tomboy, though."

Blake smiles back. "Can't imagine where she gets it from."

"Neither can I," the blonde responds. Slowly, the pain ebbs from her features. "How's your head feeling?"

The mention of it brings back the pain. Blake sighs, rubbing at the pinch at the bridge of her nose in some kind of attempt to ease the tension in her face. "It was fine until I remembered I got hit in the head."

"Well, at least you're not sleepy."

"Yeah," Blake concedes. She rubs at her eyes.

"Don't do it like that."

"Do what?"

"Rub your eyes, here…" Yang reaches forward and Blake drops her hands when she feels her warm finger tips near her face. Two calloused thumbs push the gentlest bit of pressure against her eyelids, rubbing slowly in circles around her iris.

"What are you doing?" the half-breed demands, immediately stiffening.

"Just relax."

 _Easier said than done._

When she tries, her eyebrows furrow and her face scrunches as she resists the urge to move away. "Can we not?"

Yang chuckles. " _Relax._ "

"Ugh. You're touching my eyeballs."

"Yup," the blonde chirps. She doesn't stop her movements. Blake realizes she could just move away, but she doesn't, releasing a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. As Yang's thumbs work lightly over her eyelids, she feels the muscles that move her eyes begin to relax, easing her headache slightly. She lets the tension leak from her body, leaning slightly closer. Softly, the blonde murmurs, "See? It's not so bad once you get used to the weird factor."

"Where'd you learn this trick?" Blake wonders, reluctantly sitting back when Yang's hands fall away from her face.

"My mom," she admits. "I used to get these wicked headaches when I was younger and they only got worse because I used to make all kinds of faces. Something about muscular tension making your headache worse. She'd do that for me to help me relax."

A little, nervous chortle escapes her when she realizes her eyelids feel so heavy they refuse to open. "I bet it helped you fall asleep, too. Jeez."

"Yeah, that fades after a little while," Yang chuckles, realizing what she means. "It's like your eyelids forget to be eyelids for a little bit. Don't worry."

"No, that sounds completely healthy."

"Is that _sass?_ " Her tone is faux-steel.

"Maybe," Blake retorts, managing to open her eyes just a little. She peers at Yang from between tiny slits. "What're you going to do about it?"

"Nothing, you're injured."

She pouts.

Yang grins.

A moment or two passes between them where they just watch one another. Blake doesn't really mind the staring competition, reaping the benefit of a blush once more. She provides a sly smirk, quirking an eyebrow a little bit as Yang looks increasingly uncomfortable by the second. The half-breed takes the opportunity to appreciate the way her light lavender eyes become a darker, royal purple when the lights aren't shining on them.

"Tell me something about yourself," the dark-haired woman requests. She adjusts her position a little, crossing her legs and wiggling so she can sit straight, on eye level with the woman in front of her. Nothing can hold back her desire to know more and more about the blonde, to really understand her. Every bit of information was a treasure to Blake, and every bit left her greedier. "Something good. What do you love? What's your favourite thing in the world?"

Yang leans towards her, propping herself up with her elbows on her thighs. "Only if you tell me something, too."

Another smile dawns Blake's face. "Alright."

"I really love riding at the boarder to the country," she tells her, pushing herself up. "On my motorcycle, not my bike."

Chuckling, the half-breed replies, "I figured. But I never took you for a country kind of girl?"

Yang plops down on the couch beside her, carelessly tossing her legs up onto the coffee table. She slouches into a comfortable position instantly and Blake follows suit. She feels herself leaning in towards Yang, whose weight tips the cushion in towards her and elevates the dark-haired woman a good inch. Choosing not to fight gravity, she allows her leg to rest against Yang's – who was she to disagree with a force of nature, anyway?

"I actually grew up outside of the State," Yang informs her, clasping her hands in her lap. "A little pseudo-country called Patch. It's really just a lot of farmland. But my dad shipped us out when we were young so we wouldn't be forced to make food for the State and have none for ourselves… You know, back when they first started to gain momentum."

Blake hums at that, "Now that I think about it, maybe I can see it. Honest, carefree country cow-girl type."

The blonde snorts. "Let's not go too far. Your turn."

Rolling her head back, Blake allows her eyes to fall to a close once more as she thinks about what to say. Something random comes to her mind a second later, and she can't help but let out a little chuckle as she tells the blonde, "I like having breakfast for dinner."

" _Wow._ What a scandal."

Blake's jaw drops at the disappointment in her tone. "Hey, it's not common!"

"Everyone likes breakfast for dinner," Yang disagrees, amusement in her tone. There's a light poke at her side that makes her squeak, her eyes flying open. "You don't need a specific time of day to have bacon and eggs."

She blushes. "Well now I feel silly."

"Good." The blonde laughs, standing up an instant later and walking off. Blake turns herself around on the couch, laying her chin on the back of it and watching the woman flurry about. She moves purposefully back and forth from stove to metallic grey fridge, a whirlwind of blonde, skillets and spatulas.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Breakfast for supper," Yang informs, holding a carton of eggs up and batting a wink at her. "And in the mean time you can find something better to tell me"

Scoffing, the half-breed mumbles, "You can't put value on information like that."

"I'm _waiting!_ " was the blonde's sing-song reply.

Flicking her ears and wrinkling her nose, Blake observes the blonde as she thinks. Her skillet makes a clear ting when it's thrust upon the glass stove top. A small square of butter plops into the middle, sizzling the next moment. The scent of frying butter reaches her nose the next instant, slightly sweet – like popcorn. She takes a deep, appreciative whiff. A soft, rolling purr erupts from her chest.

Looking in her direction, Yang has an expression Blake doesn't quite understand – a mix of intrigue, fascination and gentle tenderness. The softening of her lavender eyes makes her heart skip a beat.

"I really like that," she tells the dark-haired woman, invoking warmth across her cheeks. "Your reactions to things. They're so… I like them."

Blake smiles sheepishly. "It's embarrassing."

"It shouldn't be." There's something in the way that Yang tells her this that makes her feel special – beautiful, even.

"Stop that."

The abruptness of her own tone surprises her, and Blake's eyes flicker away when Yang gives her a concerned look. She can't meet those eyes. They trap her. She can't risk…this.

"You'll…give me the wrong impression," she explains softly.

"What do you mean?"

Annoyance trickles through the half-breed's normally cool demeanor. Her eyebrow twitches as she growls, "I meant what I said before, you know. If you keep doing things like that…saying things like that, in that way… I…" She didn't have the courage to say the words again, which frustrates her further. They get stuck in her throat, and instead she spits, "You're leading me on."

Yang puts down her spatula and turns towards her, arms akimbo. " _What?_ "

"Everything you told me, like you were encouraging me to…pursue you, and you've got this thing with Weiss-"

" _Weiss?"_

"Yes!" Blake cries, pushing herself off the couch. She flings her arms out to either side in frustration. "Are you trying to tell me you didn't think I'd _notice?_ "

Yang steps towards her, forgetting all about her project to stand toe to toe with the dark-haired woman. Though they're the same height, Blake feels like she has to look up at her – and it only drives her further into anger.

"I know it's only been a few days, but th…that's just not okay!"

"There's nothing going on between Weiss and I," Yang states firmly, a finality in her tone.

Blake doesn't care. "Of course there is! She comes around a lot, the way she speaks to you-"

"She speaks like that to everyone!"

"Not to me," she points out, quirking a black eyebrow.

Fierce purple eyes glare into hers and Blake returns the ferocious look with one of her own. They stand inches away from one another. Blake's acutely aware of the heat rolling off of the blonde's body, of the tingles that fly from her spine and down her legs as she realizes the aggression of the moment. She feels like she's daring a devil. She feels like she's taunting a caged animal. It only makes her angrier. Even the _horrible_ emotions Yang invokes in her make her feel so _alive._

Just when Blake opens her mouth to talk again, Yang takes in a deep breath. She pauses in surprise, watching her eyes close and the tension leaving her body as she slowly exhales. In an instant, the blonde's emotions were quelled and Blake was left still in a haze of irritation.

"Is that why you were avoiding me?" asks she, softly. The only tension left in her posture was in her brow.

"Yes," Blake whispers, trying to stoke the rage in her. She's unsuccessful. The woman's calm is infectious and the energy of the moment is quick to drain away as Blake realizes, perhaps, Yang did not know what she was doing to her. "Yes. I saw you and Weiss together and I… Didn't want to interfere. I don't want to be that girl."

A heavy sigh falls from the blonde's lips. She raises a hand to scratch at the back of her head, shifting her hair from her neck. Blake notices her hand as it moves across the side of Yang's neck, feeling a pang of guilt when she sees dark, swollen bruising across the middle and index knuckles. Tearing her gaze away, she looks down at their feet, flicking her ears back in shame. Here she was making her saviour feel bad for her love life…

Speaking so softly the half-faunus can hardly hear it, Yang mutters, "Sh…m...aw."

"What?" Blake asks, leaning closer.

Louder, she confides, "Weiss – she's my sister in-law."

Furrowing her brow, she gazes at Yang, waiting for an explanation.

Yang looks uncomfortable, but Blake is willing to be patient for her. She waits as several expressions pass over the blonde's face, starting from embarrassment to guilt to pain to exhaustion. She glances between them, preferring to fix her gaze upon the tiny amount of floor between them as she works through what to say.

"Ah, Jesus," Yang curses softly, her hands dropping to her sides. Thrusting all of her cards out on the table, she gives up on finding the right words and decides to plough right on through the subject, confiding, "She's my sister in-law, she was married to my sister. Weiss and I just got close."

"Was?" she inquires, her heart plummeting.

"Yeah," Yang continues, looking away. Blake didn't miss the glossy coating over her eyes. "She's dead."

Ears flattening, she dips her head. She realizes now that the problems Weiss had needed help with probably had something to do with this fact, and not…not anything to do with being involved romantically. Her face heats up as the reality of how stupid and judgemental she'd been slams into her, and her voices quivers as she earnestly says, "I'm so sorry, Yang."

"Yeah," Yang breathes tremulously. There's a false smile on her face, it doesn't reach her eyes, and Blake sees right through her. "Yeah… It's just… Weiss took it really hard, and she needs someone around sometimes…just to be there. You know?"

Blake nods.

Yang makes the half-step to close the distance between them and Blake immediately opens her arms, accepting the hug that comes her way. She takes a deep breath, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist. Her warmth radiates through the half-breed, who closes her eyes, holding still as Yang's chin comes to rest upon her shoulder. The blonde's arm are tight around her, wrapped over her arms, hands pressing lightly into her back.

Blake eases her face experimentally into the woman's hair, murmuring into the silky tresses, "I'm sorry."

Yang sighs, squeezing her gently. "It's okay."

* * *

A/N: Sorry FoxyFoxation, it-was-part-of-the-story-'kay?-love-you-bye-sorry-not-sorry 3


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

They lay together on a folded crocheted throw beside a pile of two yolky plates and used cutlery. An hour or so ago, Yang had turned down the shade of the windows, peering outside to confirm that the sun was indeed set beforehand. The lights of the city were well beneath them; the stars shone naked, white and plentiful. Blake can see Yang clearly in the darkness, appreciating the way the light outlines her curves, the folds of her clothes, the roundness of her features with silver – the rest falling away into a gentle shade. Even her hair takes on a new characteristic, the lightness of her yellow overpowered by the starshine, turning her hair platinum. Her eyes glimmer underneath the curtain of her long lashes, peering out at the city.

She's gorgeous.

She's gorgeous, and Blake can't stop looking at her. She lays a few feet away, pretending to sleep so the woman wouldn't worry about her rest. The distance is too much, but the half-breed doesn't dare move. Her fingers twitch with temptation and she swallows quietly when her throat goes dry. She's careful to keep her eyes mostly closed, as Yang's gaze occasionally flicks towards her, ever vigilant.

Blake wonders. Her mind drifts through the sadness of earlier, the pain she'd seen in Yang. Losing your sister… She couldn't imagine what that felt like. She'd grown up without a family – aside from the Grey Fang, that is. But she wants to be the one to help Yang move past that pain, so maybe one day…maybe one day she'd be able to remember fondly.

Yang shifts, propping herself up on one arm. She looms over Blake for a moment before her opposite hand comes to shake her shoulder a little.

"Time to wake up," the blonde whispers, tone gentle. Blake's eyes open fully and she smiles a little up at the woman. Eyebrow rising, she continues, "…Not that you were really sleeping. Pfft."

"I couldn't fall asleep," the dark-haired woman explains, stretching out her legs. "I'm sorry."

"We could've talked," Yang points out, withdrawing her hand.

Blake flushes. At least there's shade to hide her embarrassment. "I…was enjoying myself."

"Oh?"

When she doesn't answer, Yang just gives her a teasing eye roll. She leans over onto her back, gazing out at the city once more. Blake joins her, stretching out her arms.

"You never did tell me another thing," Yang informs her.

This time around, the half-breed sets aside more energy to think. Gradually, something comes to mind from years before. She gets an old poem stuck in her head, making a face when it won't leave. Breathing a sigh, she tries, "I…like to write poetry."

Yang gasps. "Oh, noetry."

Blake smiles at that. "Shut up."

The two laugh a little, the blonde smiling oddly. "My sister used to write poetry. You two would've gotten along."

"Hmm." Her golden eyes flick across Yang's face. The blonde's expression is nostalgic, her lavender eyes staring off into some place Blake can't see. Scooting closer, she leans close enough that her shoulder brushes lightly against the blonde's, commenting softly, "You should tell me about her."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," she hums, resting her head against her. Her face floods with warmth at her own forwardness. "How old was she? What did she do?"

"She was two years younger than me," Yang quietly answers. She shifts a little beneath Blake, resting her chin lightly beside one of the woman's cat ears. Her breath lightly tickles through her fur, making them flick. "And she used to wear a lot of red. It was her favourite color. She used to really love to build things, and she liked to be active but she hated indoor exercise. Actually, when she proposed to Weiss…"

* * *

" _I can't do it!"_

"Yes you can!"

" _Nooo!"_

"Just forty-five more seconds, Rubes!"

Yang isn't sure what happens, but Ruby manages to trip over her feet on the treadmill. Her jaw drops as the redhead tumbles forward, catching herself on the moving platform just fast enough that she didn't smoke her face off it. Thrown backwards, she rolls onto the hard tile floor, throwing her limbs out as she slams onto her back.

"Ugh!"

"Ruby!" Yang's at her side in an instant, kneeling by her side with wide purple eyes. "Ruby, are you okay?"

The girl's chest heaves with the effort of catching her breath. Her thin pink lips part, and she makes a funny face consisting of scrunched features and a tongue sticking out between her teeth. Yang glares at her when she realizes that she'd faked the entire fall, cuffing her over the side of her dark red-haired head lightly.

"You made me worry."

One silver eye pops open to stare at her, pouting in response. "You should worry; I'm going to have a heart attack!"

"You ran for maybe ten minutes," Yang points out, eyebrows rising. "That's nothing for you!"

"Cardio is hardio."

Standing up, the blonde can't contain her grin at her sister's silliness. She holds her hand down to the younger woman, who takes it without missing a beat. Yang heaves Ruby up, chuckling a little when she bounces up onto her feet.

Ruby Rose is dressed in her favourite black skinny jeans and red t-shirt – not exactly gym clothes, but they made do. Her impromptu visit to the blonde's dojo had turned into a stress-release work out session for the red-haired woman. Yang evaluates her with a little scrutiny, her gaze falling on the bead necklace with a grey fang hanging from it with curiosity. The chain hanging from her beltloop with the rose pendant doesn't escape her attention, either.

"Is this how you're going to ask Weiss Schnee to marry you?" Yang inquires after a quick glance at the clock above her red door, realizing the girl only has an hour until her date with the aforementioned woman. "You think she's going to go for the tomboy shtick?"

Ruby's eyes go wide. She looks down at herself, suddenly panicking. " _Crap!_ I didn't even think about pretty clothes!"

Yang grins at her. "At least you got the grease stains out. That'll make her happy."

"Don't be a butt, help me!"

"You can take my peacoat or trench," the blonde offers with a shrug, pointing to her closet. "I don't exactly keep my pretty clothes here, you know."

"Is that okay?"

"Totally. Also, maybe lose the chains."

"Why?" Ruby looks up at her incredulously.

"You're going to a restaurant," she tells her sibling patiently, waiting for the realization to hit. "A really nice, Schnee-level restaurant."

Her lips form a little "o" when it dawns on her, breathing out, " _Posh_ people."

Yang nods wisely.

The redhead unclips the chain, bundling them in her palm before handing them over to Yang. The eldest sibling takes it, and then with a big sigh, pulls her little sister into the tightest hug of her light. She lets out a groan of surprise into Yang's collar, but the blonde has none of it, overcome with a rush of pride and joy. The little girl she'd read books to late at night was all grown up, and she was about to get a little older that night. Proposing to _Senator_ god-damn _Schnee_ , her first love, a woman they'd both grown up with. She was filling in her big-girl boots, and Yang couldn't have been happier for her if she tried.

"I love you, sis," Yang whispers, clasping her on the shoulders when she moves away. The girl's cheeks flush a little, a cute smile tugging at the corners of her lips when Yang looks into her eyes. "Mom would be so proud of you, you know? And, just so you know, so am I."

"Thanks Yang," Ruby whispers, a big grin overcoming her face as the emotion of the moment becomes too much for her to handle. Silliness is her go-to and Yang is thankful for it – if she lost that, then she'd _really_ be an adult. She wasn't quite ready for that. "I'm scared."

"You should be."

" _Thanks._ "

Grinning, Yang ruffles her red hair a little, telling her, "You're about to commit the rest of your life to one person. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health – all that. You're putting your heart on the line. It should scare you. But here's the thing…" Ruby's attention is all hers now, her silver eyes never leaving her lavender ones. "…Weiss Schnee loves you. She's loved you for years. Grease stains and all. She's not _really_ going to care if you wear casual clothes to a fancy restaurant, she just cares that you're going to be there with her. And you love her. Right?"

It's rhetorical, but Ruby answers anyway. "Yes. Of course."

"Then it's time for you to be the best you you can be," Yang says, squeezing her shoulders. "Tonight should be the night you remind her of all the reasons why she fell in love with you in the first place. So you don't have to be nervous. She didn't fall for anyone else – just you."

The twenty year old nods, exhaling her nervousness. "Yeah. I'm hot stuff."

"Hell _yeah_ you are!"

" _Yeah!_ "

Ruby bounces a little as she riles herself up, mustering her courage.

Yang's about to turn to find her trench coat when Ruby suddenly asks, "But what if she says no?"

"She won't."

"How do you know?"

"Ruby."

"Yang!"

"She won't," the eldest reaffirms, throwing a smile at the youngest from over her shoulder. She goes to the coat rack, plucking off her nice black peacoat instead of her grey trench, tossing it to the redhead. Ruby catches it easily, holding it up for a second before she lets out a big sigh.

"You're the best sister in the world."

Yang just smiles.

* * *

Blake hangs on every word of Yang's story, frowning and unsatisfied when she stops.

"Well?"

Yang glances her way. "Hm? Well what?"

"What happened?" Blake questions, cocking her head to the side. "Between Weiss and Ruby, I mean."

"Oh," Yang laughs. "Obviously, she said yes."

The half-breed's ears twitch as she realizes that, of course, Weiss had said yes. She'd just gotten so caught up in listening to Yang tell her story that she couldn't help but get lost. Grumbling, she looks away. "Right."

"I got a call sometime later that night, after my last class," Yang starts again, her tone changing as she remembers again. "Ruby called me after the date to tell me Weiss had said yes and how it had happened. It was super cute, apparently. She did it when she was walking Weiss home, popped the question right outside her door. Of course, she said yes."

Blake smiles at that. "Sounds romantic."

"Yeah," Yang breathes, looking up. "Ruby loved reading the adventure stories with romance – you know the ones, where the hero puts it all on the line for their squeeze."

Snorting, the dark-haired woman says, "You make it sound so sweet."

"We can't all be good with words."

She smiles at that. No, she supposes, not everyone could be. She feels Yang shift, and suddenly her hand sneaks into hers. She sucks in a breath as Yang's fingers lace through hers, her palm molding into her own – seamlessly. Her heart races. It's different when the blonde initiates it - sweeter, somehow. Her thumb brushes slowly along the length of Blake's index finger.

"Blake." Yang's voice is a breathy murmur. The way her name rolls off the blonde's tongue makes heat flood through her core, makes her heart thump harder and harder. She lifts her head from Yang's shoulder to look up into her eyes. And she's immediately captured, seized by the glistening purple and blazing red strands in her eyes. She leans closer to her, her gaze never once leaving Blake's as she whispers, "I'm not good with words, but..." she clears her throat softly, her fingers tightening around Blake's hand. "I…"

Blake's mind goes foggy for a moment. She can't concentrate on anything but Yang. She's hyper-focussed on the blonde, taking in the expressive wrinkle between her blonde eyebrows as they furrow, the florid lines of her full lips, the adorable fullness of her cheeks.

Yang hovers just inches away from her. She's so close. Her warmth washes over Blake, her nearness shining lights through the darkness in her mind.

Blake can't tell if she's eager or if she's afraid – or if she's both. Her amber eyes look into Yang's, her lips parting as she tries to think of something to say, something to do… She's consumed; a fire ignites inside of her chest and her stomach flutters in response.

"Fuck it," Yang finally sighs, closing the distance between them. Her lips press into Blake's, and they're both shy at first as their brains reel to understand what's happening. Slowly their mouths dance, molding tenderly together. The blonde's heat burns through the half-breed, whose eyes flutter to a close. Her free hand raises to Yang's neck, brushing her hair way from her shoulder and racking her fingers through the soft and unruly locks. Blake's hand pulls her closer, welcoming her in, and Yang presses forward ardently to collide fully with her.

At some point, Blake feels her back pressing lightly into the floor. Yang's arm cushions the back of her neck as her body lingers against hers, freeing Blake's hand. It wanders of its own accord across soft cotton feeling the rigid lines of Yang's muscular waist all the way to her hips, eliciting a throaty moan from the woman. Yang's tongue swipes across her lower lip, and Blake follows suit, her teeth lightly grazing her upper lip. The exploration breathes a high of life through Blake, the currents of which travel like electricity through her body. Her fingers curl into Yang's shirt, holding them tighter against one another.

And neither is sure how long they remain so, kissing beneath the starshine.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys. I'm really sorry about the formatting of this chapter before, I didn't realize that my Word formatting wouldn't carry over. It's fixed now. I'll keep an eye out for that in the future.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Quietly, Blake enjoys her tea. Her fingers travel slowly up the length of the paper cup between her palms, appreciating with a little smile the short bustle of people that weave between the rows of bookcases. Moments before, they'd come bounding down the stairs, talking among themselves about the lesson they'd just had with Yang as well as schooling. Yang had been true to her word – her students certainly did do something to help increase her business. She observes them, a small, shy smile adorning her face.

Not one among them is plump. Each person that passes by is rigidly built with muscle, and Blake wonders if the conditioning Yang puts all of her students through is to thank for that.

 _Maybe I should give it a shot,_ she thinks, taking the last sip of her tea. A little wistful sigh puffing from her lips. She rests her chin in her palm, her elbow supporting her as she follows a couple down the stairs with her golden gaze.

A red-headed Amazonian with green eyes travels alongside a tall, lankier blonde man. They're both built well, but the woman is by far more impressive. She holds herself with confidence and pride, her posture straight as a board. Her loose bronze tank top accentuates the powerful muscles of her long, elegant neck and the sharp points of her collar bones – all helped by the neat up-do of her long hair. Her smile is subdued but genuine as she approaches Blake, the blonde in tow.

Blake analyzes him next. Her heart warms upon the kindness of his blue eyes, the softness of his expression as he beholds her. He's a gentle soul despite the fact he trains at a dojo. His wily blonde mop of hair doing well to give him as powerful an aura as that of a puppy, but even as she thinks this, she notices the cautious way he analyzes her in return.

"Hello," the red-head says. There's a softness in her voice that surprises Blake. "I'm Pyrrha, I work with Yang upstairs. She said that you might be looking for an employee?"

Blake's eyebrow sky rockets at that. Her tone is questioning when she responds, "Did she, now?"

The way she speaks makes them both falter, with the red-head's – Pyrrha's – mouth opening long before words find her tongue.

To Blake's surprise, the blond jumps in, "I was looking for a job and I was wondering if you had any openings. Yang said you might want an assistant."

As he talks, Blake notices that both of them are wearing a dark cords about their necks when he speaks, her eyes trailing over both of the necklaces to a painted grey, wooden fang.

 _They match,_ the half-breed realizes, struck by the sweetness of the gesture.

"Business gets quick in the afternoons sometimes, especially on Fridays," Blake finally says, fixing the blonde with her gaze. Truth be told, if Yang hadn't pointed him in her direction, she would've denied him. She was too proud to admit her need for help to a stranger. "I just took over this place two or so weeks ago now, so I do need to warn you that I'm still not quite sure what I'm doing."

The blonde smiles at that. "I think we can all relate to that."

"We close on weekends," Blake tells him, appreciating his understanding. "I'd have you work in the afternoons on our busiest days – Wednesday, Thursday and Friday."

His eyes go wide. "Wait, w-what?"

She continues on, "And maybe some mornings, as I could use some extra time to work on my thesis. I can't pay you too much, maybe a dollar or two over minimum wage… Is that acceptable?"

The man's expression is one of shock.

Pyrrha turns to him with a grin.

He looks between the woman beside him and Blake several times before he exclaims, "O-Of course! That's perfect! D…Did you want to see my resume? References?"

"Nah," she replies, a sheepish smile on her face. "I, uh… I'm not exactly formal."

"No, you pay more." The new voice comes from the height of the stairs. Blake's eyes lift to see Yang sitting at the top step, smiling down at them. Her lavender eyes sparkle at her, thankful and affectionate, as she continues, "Maybe you could even have him in on weekends. Get a little Saturday-Sunday business."

 _That's an idea,_ Blake agrees silently, pursing her lips in thought. Being busy throughout the week with the store and with her thesis, and now with Yang, she didn't really have the energy to work another two days. She'd finish her week desperate to work on her novel, to kick back and relax. Additionally, as of last week, she wants now more than ever to spend it in the company of someone else. Not to mention being open another two days would help pay for a new employee.

When she realizes that the two standing in front of her were looking at her, she blinks out of her reverie.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

They both smile kindly, and the man repeats, "Would you like me to start tomorrow?"

 _Thursday?_ She purses her lips before shrugging. "Sure, if you like. We'll see how it goes for the weekend."

"Thank you very much," he breathes, and he shoots a hand out to her. "I'm Jaune, by the way. Jaune Arc."

Blake accepts his handshake with a nod. "Blake."

"We should probably go look for that book you needed," Pyrrha suggests before a lull could happen. "Do you have any Plato?"

"In the back," Blake answers, gesturing with her chin to the middle row. She watches them leave, feeling a tiny bit pleased with what had just happened.

Turning her gaze up to look at Yang, she's about to say something when a few students come up to her desk. The woman, in turn, smiles understandingly as Blake proceeds instead to be a good customer server. Ever the useful one, the woman comes down to mingle and aide her students, picking out some books and directing them as they need.

* * *

The afternoon's hours' worth of business sets her well above budget. At the end of it all, Blake sits back with a huff, sighing tiredly. The average student's budget for books has increased since her post-grad days, she realizes sympathetically. Every year of difference between herself and her students seemed to resemble the amount of books more that they had to buy to appease their classes' requirements. Some of the books, Blake recollects with a roll of her eyes, were authored by some of the professors at the local university.

 _How arrogant._

Whenever she'd had a professor ask her to use a book that they'd written for her class, she would obstinately choose not to do so. There was a stagnation in knowledge, a lull in the pursuit for intelligence, when a teacher would ask their students not to seek their own answers. This especially in the arts, where beauty and enlightenment was reached only when one could think for themselves.

"You seem thoughtful," Yang comments as she pushes herself off of one of the bookcases, approaching her. The blonde's presence drives the weariness from her, though her smile is lazy when it drags across her face.

"Thank you for helping me," Blake tells her, reaching out to her as the blonde bends. They share a light, short kiss. Now, the gesture is a common greeting between them. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"At least now you've got Jaune to give you a hand when it gets busy," she remarks, sitting lightly on the desk.

Blake appreciates Yang with a soft, golden gaze. The days since the night at Yang's loft had passed quickly and easily, with little commotion or trouble. They'd agreed to take things slowly, as neither woman had been in any serious commitment for quite some time. For Blake, it had been year since she'd even bothered with a one night stand, let alone a relationship. She had been grateful when Yang suggested it, stopping their kissing before it could become too passionate to pose the idea to her. That was how she'd truly known Yang was serious with her, smiling at the memory.

Yang's touch on her cheek surprises her. She startles, heat rushing to her cheeks. The blonde looks down at her apologetically as her thumb trails lightly across her cheekbone, and the dark-haired woman turns to kiss her palm.

"What's wrong?" Blake asks softly, resting her palm over the woman's hand.

"You get lost in thought sometimes," Yang informs her as their eyes meet. "It's one of the things I like about you. Seeing you thinking and wondering, you look so beautiful. But, I've got to admit, sometimes it feels like you're not gunna come back to me."

"I do it often, don't I?" she acknowledges, her fingers curling around Yang's hand to hold it. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly," Yang says, squeezing her fingers. "Just, y'know… don't mind me if I end up getting touchy."

"I'm sure I can find some way to deal with it."

She chuckles.

Silence falls between them where the two just look into one another's eyes; the same tender, caring expression in both of their gazes. Blake sits back a little bit, and it's then that she notices four or five books lightly resting in the woman's lap.

"Stealing merchandise?"

"Hardly," Yang scoffs at her. "I was going to ask if it'd be okay to buy these."

There was quite a selection in her hands, from Charlotte Bronte to Joseph Heller, with Virginia Woolf and George Orwell in between. She raises an eyebrow at the blonde, curious. "Why all those? I thought you had read some of these."

"Building a library," the blonde admits with a wink. "I figure, the more books I have in my loft, the more you'll come by."

Blake smirks at that. "You're going to need some recent stuff, if that's the case."

"I'll remember that for next time," she replies, holding up the books a little. "Is it okay?"

"Take them."

"Oh no, I'm buying them."

The half-breed raises an eyebrow. "No, you're not."

"Yes."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on," Yang pleads, setting the books down on the desk. "These can be expensive, most of all if you keep giving them for free."

Blake recalls Weiss's kindness the first day they'd met, shrugging a little. "It's not a big deal. Besides, I think I still owe your sister in-law."

Making a face, the blonde grumbles, "I'm not her, though."

"Let me do something nice for you, for a change," the half-faunus mutters, glaring at her. "You saved me last week, I should be allowed to give you a couple of books."

Lavender eyes narrow at her. "Only if you'll go out to dinner with me tonight."

She's so suave and charming. The way she speaks, she comes across as argumentative, but that lopsided grin finds its way on the blonde's face as Blake stares at her. It was a playful and pleasant way to be asked out, firmly ending a would-be squabble had the argument continued. The half-breed's heart skips while her face blushes. She dips her head to avoid the woman's devilish expression. Shaking her head, Blake wonders how she'll ever manage these feelings. Specialness, intrigue, the excitement that came when Yang changes the tone and the pace with nothing but a single sentence or look. With a sigh, she glances back towards the blonde's smug face, earning a waggle of eyebrows in response.

"I'm going to get fat if you keep feeding me," Blake states, adoring the little excited shimmy of the woman's shoulders. "What weird thing are you going to subject me to tonight?"

"Something… French."

Blake looks at her disbelievingly. "There's not a good French restaurant anywhere near here."

"Who said _anything_ about a restaurant?"

"You're cooking again?"

The disdain in her face elicits a furrowing of the brow from Yang and a swift, "Hey, I'm a good cook!"

She laughs. "I'm just teasing you."

"Good," Yang growls, looming over her, eyes playful. Sitting up quickly, Blake catches her with a kiss before she can continue. The blonde's lips are slightly chapped from the dryness of the store, but Blake doesn't care. She presses up with gentle vigor, her hand finding itself at the base of the blonde's neck, drawing her closer. Her girlfriend sighs into her and the half-breed's heart flutters, enjoying the soft, breathless moan that vibrates across her lips.

When they part, it's slow and reluctant. Yang's forehead comes to rest upon her own and golden eyes flutter closed as Blake breathes in her scent. She notices with interest the change of her fragrance; it's sweet and burnt, reminiscent of roasted almonds.

"You're good at that," the blonde murmurs, her hand sliding across the desk to touch her neck. Tingles make flight up and down her neck and shoulders from the point of contact. Blake shivers as goosebumps explode across her skin. Slow as molasses, Yang's fingers brush down the length of tendon to her collar, exposed just so by her dark v-neck t-shirt. She hums a deep, rolling purr as her touch travels back up, respectfully going no further. Cupping the nape of her neck, she softly questions, "So, will you?"

"Of course I will," Blake breathes, opening her eyes. "Do you really have to ask?"

Yang's were already open, and she smiles when they make eye contact once more. "I don't like to make assumptions."

The door opening causes them to jump back from one another, Yang with a grin and Blake with a ferocious blush. In came Weiss, who doesn't skip a beat despite the show of affection she walks in on. Purposefully, she strides behind Blake's desk and takes control of her PC-POS system. The senator skillfully manages to tab out of the POS program – a feat which Blake would have to ask how to achieve later – and opens her internet browser.

"So, uh…" Yang clears her throat. "Hi, Weiss."

Weiss was a common enough occurrence that Blake was beginning to open up to her, keeping Blake company by way of engaging conversation. In fact, Weiss had actually come Monday morning to drop something off to Yang, bringing a coffee for both of them and a tea for her.

"Yang said you'd like this," Weiss, shyly and quietly, told her. Handing her a cup, Blake had gotten an intense whiff of tart plumminess. "It's Korean plum tea. I prefer mine without sugar, but she said you'd like it with."

It had been a kind gesture, and of course, Blake _had_ enjoyed the tea.

Now, as Weiss's fingers dance across her keyboard, her visit feels far more urgent than last time. She navigates to a government website, throwing up a video of a recent opening of the Senate.

"This happened earlier today," Weiss informs them, her icy blue eyes never once meeting theirs. On her face is shame, a furrowing brow of anger that alarms both the women beside her. The muscles in her jaw pop. Clicking play and then reeling away from the desk, she crosses her arms tightly around herself.

Yang sits closer to Blake so she wouldn't have to turn the screen, and the two watch as a woman with silver hair and glinting red eyes opens the Senate with, "Today we assemble to discuss the proposal of Bill C-22. In our last voting, we ended with a near perfect tie, failing to meet the sixty percent necessary. We will open our discussion with Senator Fall."

"Thank you," a black-haired woman replies, standing in response. "Many of you seem to still have questions about whether or not faunus and humankind should be further separated. This isn't the first time we've experienced this resistance in our numbers, and I suspect that if you're allowed to stay…we can always rest assured you will fight this. But there are those among our people, including faunus, who would rather see the two races separate. There's an outcry of the people that is currently being ignored."

"Hardly an outcry if we're the ones spreading the message," a man with dark hair quips, his dull maroon eyes fixing on Senator Fall. "Propaganda is a dirty way to control the people because it _works._ Wonderfully. Peoples brains shut off when you tell them a professional, an expert, is handling something."

There's a little hum of agreement.

"Nonetheless, Senator Branwen," the black-haired woman continues, unfazed by the interruptions. "There _is_ an outcry. People are offended by one another and it is our duty, is it not, to rectify that?"

Senator Branwen grunts, "You could hardly call it offense when people haven't been allowed to think for themselves about what actually bothers them. _You_ are offended by the unity of our species."

"That's out of turn," the red-eyed woman booms, earning a glare from the scruffy maroon-eyed Senator. "Making implications such as that is nearly libel, Senator. I suggest you hold your tongue."

"Case in point," he utters, but falls quiet for the moment.

Blake's ears fall back against her head as she listens to Senator Fall continue to speak, her heart plummeting into her stomach like a lead weight as her words gain speed among the other Senators. Noticing her reaction, Yang's arm falls around her, holding her lightly against her waist. Swallowing thickly, Blake watches an argument explode.

"Apartheid will do us no good!" Weiss's voice explodes, the woman slamming her hands down on the table as she rises, not so far away from Senator Branwen. "There are still so many faunus and humans who want to be together. What about faunus-human families? What about the hybrids? They're perfectly happy with one another, living in solidarity."

"And yet fighting explodes among us," Fall retorts.

"Fighting happens because the SJP militarizes against those that disagree!"

"A baseless comment," someone else pipes up. "There's no proof of that."

"It's the truth," Weiss snaps, sending her glare in the direction of the voice. "Cities don't just blow themselves up, Senator."

Branwen is the one to stop the fighting, bringing the conversation back around. "Regardless of Senator Black's education, it's absolutely intolerable that we are having these discussions in the twenty-first century. We accepted and bargained for peace, eighty years ago, remember? Peace in unity. Now everyone's so bloody sensitive about anything. Wasn't it just ten years ago that you all vied for uniqueness and originality?"

The man scoffs as he ruthlessly continues, "I can remember when some of you would come to Senate with shaved, pink heads and – what's it? – henna, on your faces. Now you're all afraid of offending one another by expressing yourselves, and you wear yourselves like you're from the goddamn eighteenth century. Except _now_ you can dye your hair black to blend in more."

"The world is changing, Senator Branwen," Fall says with a smug grin when the Senate doesn't respond to his speech. "It's up to you whether or not you will rise to meet or fall short of it."

"This is absolutely illogical," Weiss says, her voice thinly-veiling her rage. "If you won't see it from a humanitarian point of view, then see it from an economical one. Our dollar has never been more powerful than when it was when humankind and faunuskind were united. When they started leaving, we lost thousands of workers and businesses that were contributing to the country. Now we're looking to completely eradicate them? One cannot exist without the other, Senator Fall – our country won't have enough back bone to hold itself up in the global community. This isn't even mentioning the costs of mobilizing forces, space and, for godsake, all other resources to move them."

"Not to mention it'd be an outright declaration of war with the Grey Fang," Branwen adds, his arms crossing over his chest.

Blake's ears twitch at that, her back straightening a little. _They're still active?_

"The Grey Fang is not a threat and they never will be," Fall argues. "Why should we fear a couple of traitors? They're just attention seekers seeking to dismantle the pursuit of peace. Nothing more"

The arm around her suddenly becomes steel. Momentarily, Blake's attention diverts to the blonde, and she's stunned to see the fury on her face. The woman's lavender eyes blaze, the reds never brighter or powerful than in that moment. The muscles of her neck and shoulders bulge as she struggles to contain herself.

The conversation goes on, and every moment that passes, Weiss is arguing vehemently for the nullification of the bill. She has slim support, with Branwen making up the majority of it, the other voices too quiet to add much weight to the discussion. In the end, the Senator with the red eyes silences her when she becomes too impassioned and, moments later, calls a vote.

"That's 67 to 53," the ashen-haired woman's voice is loud as an explosion. "Fifty six percent in favour of yes, and forty four…not. We will meet again in two months' time to discuss the Bill once more."

"A four percent increase from last time," Weiss tells them softly. She finally glances towards them, but Blake's too stunned to look back at her.

Her heart roars in her ears. So close. To think, four percent more and the Bill would've been passed. She swallows, her eyes wide as she considers the implications of an increase. More people were backing this motion. Somehow, this was gaining speed. They would tear everything apart. She could lose her home. Everything she was building for herself would be torn down. She'd have nothing. And if she resists, they'd…they'd…

"I'm so sorry, Yang, Blake," Weiss whispers.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"You still want to go out?"

Yang glances back at her incredulously, holding a leather jacket out to her. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

The video Weiss had shown them left a bitter taste in her mouth. Blake couldn't help but worry, her brow creasing ever since. At Yang's insistence, she'd closed early despite that she wanted to just work and forget what she had seen. There is a small voice of hope in the back of her mind that cries out, "Maybe it'll be okay!" or "Someone'll stop this", but the rest of her knows it's a fallacy. She couldn't understand the way Yang had rebounded so quickly, as if the government moving against the faunus had no effect on her.

With a sigh, she slips her arm into the first sleeve, turning so she could move into the next one. Yang steps forward as she straightens the jacket, catching her around her waist before she could turn back around again. Blake's eyes widen when she feels the woman press against her, her hands resting lightly near her navel in a more than intimate embrace. Her face burns as she feels the blonde's lips on her shoulder.

"There's nothing saying we can't enjoy ourselves still," Yang murmurs against her flesh. She breathes out against her skin, the dewy heat of it sending a shiver down Blake's spine. "Besides, you'll really like this. I promise."

Blake rolls her eyes to preserve her mask of aloofness, but her body leans readily against Yang, enjoying the warmth and caress of her against her back. "How do you know I'll like it? I might hate French food."

That gave Yang pause. Her lips still on her skin, and Blake smiles triumphantly, realizing that she'd finally managed to make the woman question herself.

"…Do you?"

"No, let's go." Blake shoots her a devilish smirk.

Releasing her, Yang grins back at her. "Mean. I was actually worried."

"Good," the half-breed purrs. She isn't expecting it when her girlfriend grabs her by the waist, lifting her up off her feet only an inch or two to spin her about. The smugness washes clean of Blake's face, which is now twisting with shock and burning red. When Yang plops her back down on her feet, the blonde winks at her and pecks her on the lips.

"Much better. Let's go."

And she rushes out.

Blake's heart is warm as she follows her out, and doesn't realize that she has a small smile on her face. She locks the door behind her, a bounce in her step as she walks around the back of the building to the little parking lot.

This'll be the first time riding Yang's motorcycle, which as she comes into the parking lot, is certainly impressive. It's a yellow and orange, sleekly curved monster of a motorcycle, with thicker wheels than she's ever seen on a bike. Its windshield was tiny, the handlebars far up over the gas tank so that the driver would have to nearly lay against the bike to reach them. Towards the back are two hard-shelled cases on the tail, which she assumes are for the food. She watches Yang throw her leg over the sports bike, the strength of her legs lifting it off its kickstand, which she flicks up with her foot. She fastens a yellow half-helmet around her chin before handing her a black one of the same design.

Blake takes it, the nervousness of riding a motorcycle for the first time beginning to settle in. Flipping the helmet over, her eyes soften when she sees that Yang had already adjusted the padding inside to accommodate her ears.

"Let me know if it's uncomfortable," Yang says, watching as she puts the helmet on.

It's certainly snug, that's for sure, but her ears aren't painfully pressing into her skull. She was able to move them a little as well, which was certainly a bonus.

"It fits great," she assures. "Are we going back to your place?"

"Nah."

Blake raises an eyebrow. She stands at Yang's side as she switches the bike on. Her ears flick when the machine roars to life, the sound reverberating off the walls in such a way that she felt it through her body.

"You going to get on?"

"Yeah…" the half-breed breathes, smoldering eyes flicking up to her girlfriend's lavender eyes. "I think I might be sexually attracted to your motorcycle."

Yang snorts, laughing as Blake climbs onto the elevated back. Her laughter is beautiful toxin, eliciting a little chuckle from her as well. She leans forward to kiss the blonde's cheek, wiggling closer to her and enjoying the sound and feel of her laughing as her arms come around her waist.

"You're not as classy as I thought you were!"

"I never say no to a little abject lewdity," Blake hums. "Just a little, though. No whips or chains. Ribbons, though…"

Craning her neck, Yang glances back at her from the corner of her eyes. She pecks Blake's nose, and with a low voice she practically growls, " _Noted._ "

"Mmm." She wonders if her own attempts at flirtation leave heat searing through Yang's core as it does her own.

"Alright, kitten," Yang begins, pausing just a moment to gauge Blake's reaction to the pet name. When the woman just rolls her eyes, she continues on with a self-satisfied smirk, "I need you to hold on to my waist."

Blake's arms slip around her.

The blonde pulls them away, moving her hands to her sides, just above her hips. "Here."

"Okay."

"And lean with the bike when it turns, don't lean against the turn," Yang tells her. "It'll feel weird at first but I promise you won't fall off."

She chuckles. "Actually, I wasn't worried about it before, but now…"

"We can scrape you up if you do," Yang jokes.

When the bike lurches forward, the inertia of being moved surprises her. A little, panicked rush of energy tightens her fingers without consent.

"You okay?" Yang asks, pausing. She's sweet and patient, and Blake admires her all the more for her concern.

"I'm okay. Don't worry."

Dipping her head, Yang pushes them along with her feet, rolling them lightly to the front of the building. The bike hums eagerly between their legs, its engine a rolling, deep purr as they approach the road. Thrills through her chest and a little pain let's her know her heart is pumping, anticipation burning out all the fears she'd previously had. The firmness of her girlfriend's body is a gentle promise that no harm would come to her, that she was protected – even while riding this powerful machine. The danger couldn't breach Yang's light.

Yang hits the throttle, releasing the clutch. They jump forwards and into traffic, eliciting a little yelp from the half-breed. It wasn't fear, but excitement – like riding on a roller coaster. The bike lets out a noise like rolling thunder as they gain speed.

The wind whips around Blake and lifts up her hair, tossing it behind her, encouraging her abandon. It flies across her skin and slams into her. Blake's core tightens to compensate as she's berated, her eyes lighting up as her soul is swept with the gale's current. Yang's hair sweeps across her face with the scent of vanilla shampoo and almonds, reminiscent of fire. It envelopes Blake, who has to lean up to avoid it whipping her face, but she prefers this. She can see over Yang's head, watch as they streak past cars and look into the eyes of the disapproving, monotone-coloured drivers who care not to go faster than the limits of the road. Blake had always thought the posted speeds were too fast, but those concerns were left with her bookstore the instant they'd begun _really_ moving.

 _Screw 'em!_ She yells in her head, a large and genuine and beautiful smile reaching across her face. They could disapprove for all she cared – they would never truly live! Stuck within the confines of their black and white world, where no in between could exist, they would never understand what it felt like to break rules, to challenge the world and dare fate. None would know the spangled freedom, the pristine fire of elation that Blake felt riding at Yang's back.

These emotions were hers, and hers alone. Yang was the blaze that would level the pillars and walls that Blake had built up around herself, and these emotions were the smoke of her burning straight through her. And Blake could claim this without fear of selfishness, without fear of judgement; she was safe, because the inferno only danced to Yang's tune.

When they get out of the city and into the country, Yang relaxes a little. The traffic lessens almost to none, and so Blake takes a chance. Her hands slide down onto the blonde's hips, smoothing lightly across the line of her jeans to lock together in the middle, just beneath her navel. She rests against the woman, her breasts pushing lightly into the curve of her back. Yearning sends her crashing heart downward, pushing it off a metaphorical cliff and into a yellow abyss.

And she falls.

And Yang doesn't move her hands back where they were, so she rests her cheek in a pillow of blonde tresses, letting her flaming locks fly around her.

She spirals out of control, heels over head or head over heels. Shamelessly, she allows this. With Yang, she could tame the roads that couldn't be tamed. They could run, and she could allow herself to _feel_ again. Her identity, her race, she could let go of her past and just be no one. She felt like titanium. She felt untouchable, invincible.

When they reach their destination, Blake doesn't come down from her high. Yang turns to say something but Blake crushes an intense kiss into her lips. Her arms squeeze the blonde tightly against her, possessive hands massaging up along her leather-clad abdomen. The blonde kisses her back just as intensely, leaning back so the half-faunus had easier access to her mouth. Blake crushes her body into Yang's back, her teeth grazing the blonde's upper lip and her tongue darting forward to muffle the moan that followed. When they part, it's for need of oxygen, and Blake is totally absorbed by the breathless, flushed face of her girlfriend. At some point, the blonde's hand had come up to caress the back of her neck. Blake loves the feelings that come when Yang hangs off of her a little, her head resting back against her collar.

"Goddamn," she breathes, her perfect and full lips dawning an inebriated smile. "I take it you enjoyed the ride?"

Amber eyes burn with desire as the half-breed gazes down at her face. She loves every second of Yang's recovery, how her lips glisten under the evening sun, how her eyes sparkle when they open again. Her fingers trail lines up and down her front, never breaching higher than her abdomen or lower than the buckle around her hips. She feels Yang's breath against her chest, shallow and wanting.

"You have no idea what you do to me," the dark-haired woman growls, feasting her eyes upon the rapturous expressions of her girlfriend.

A dark, sultry laugh escapes her, and her lavender eyes meet Blake's. "I can't believe you're saying that to me."

It _was_ ironic, she supposes, realizing her finger tips were travelling quite near to certain sensitive areas upon their travel of Yang's muscular stomach. She hums in acknowledgement, but doesn't stop.

"Is this what you were talking about before?" Yang questions, her hands finding spots on either of Blake's knees. " _Abject lewdity_?"

"There's nothing wrong with this," Blake defends, smiling at the teasing tone.

"We _are_ in the public."

It's then that Blake has the sense to look around.

They were at a busy pond just outside the city, a place often frequented by paddle-boaters and kayakers. The water itself was at the base of a small hill, lush with thick, green grass and the odd flower. When Yang dismounts the bike with a purposeful look to that little hill, Blake realizes that must be their destination.

"French cuisine by a pond," Blake muses, quirking an eyebrow at her girlfriend. She'll go at lengths to tease, but the gesture set flame to warmth that radiates gently through her body. "You really know how a woman ticks, huh?"

Yang winks. "I might have some inside experience."

Only when Blake's lips twitch up into a sly smirk and her eyebrows skyrocket did Yang realize her unintended double-entendre. The blonde flushes a dark scarlet, scratching sheepishly at the back of her neck and murmuring, "You know what I meant."

The half-faunus's ears twitch dismissively, but the grin doesn't fade. _Cute._

Blake dismounts as Yang sets about opening the cases, picking out a (very classic) woven picnic basket with the head of a bottle of wine sticking from the side. She pulls out a light, red and white flannel blanket that Blake snatches from her, refusing to be useless. They didn't park too far from the hill – maybe a dozen meters or so. When they mount the summit, Blake opens the blanket with a wave of her arm and a flick downwards. It settles relatively straight, unlike all the other times she's done so on her bed.

Yang follows the dark-haired woman's example when she sits down. The blonde plops her basket down between them, and at Blake's curious glance, explains, "So, I started this meal without taking into consideration that it would have to be easily transportable. As a result…"

She picks out a Tupperware filled with something that looked like the bastard love child between a stew and a salad.

"Ratatouille," she informs, looking a little embarrassed at herself. Blake opens it, enjoying the warm waft of cooked tomatoes and coriander. "And this…"

She pulls out another Tupperware of greasy-looking scallops that smell of lemon and butter when she opens it. "Is more of a tradiational Yang dish than it is a French one."

Blake smiles at that. "Not a fan of ocean tastes, I gather?"

"No, not even a little," Yang answers.

There's something timid in the way she's presenting herself now that sends electricity crackling through Blake's body. She reaches out to her, catching the swell of the blonde's cheek with the palm of her hand as she leans forward. Blake's kiss is light and encouraging, a quiet breeze across Yang's warm lips.

"I love it," Blake softly reassures, her thumb tracing over Yang's cheekbone. "You don't have to be so nervous. It's beautiful. Even if you did ruin the scallops."

A soft, relieved chuckle follows. "I'm trying to impress you."

"Then that better be a rosé in your basket."

Beaming, Yang plucks out the bottle of wine. "It is, actually. But it's from Greece."

" _Almost_ perfect."

"It's a really good Greek rosé," Yang defends, her tone playful. She cracks it open and rummages in the basket for two plastic wine glasses.

Where others would clam up and get irritated, Yang thrived. A tease here or there, or in this case continuously, only seems to further her relaxation. Blake could understand that. In the wake of teasing and playfulness, it was easy to forget that one had done something with a lot of care and effort. It took out the danger in putting yourself out there.

Blake doesn't even bother waiting for Yang to grab the forks out of the basket to plop one of those scallops in her mouth. She moans as it practically melts in her mouth, earning the attention of the blonde beside her.

"It's good?"

"I e _specially_ love popcorn-flavoured scallops," the half breed teases.

Rolling her eyes, Yang chuckles, "That's enough sass out of you."

It really was good.

If truth be told, Blake had probably eaten the lot of Yang's meal. She wasn't ashamed – Yang _was_ a really good cook. The scallops were a favourite between them, easy finger-food as they'd both decided to forgo a fork after Blake dug in.

They stayed at that pond long past the kayakers and the paddle-boaters, watching as the sun set behind the maple trees across from them. As the sky shirks its blues in favour of bars of gold and violet, the sun's rays set aflame the darkening brown of the maple leaves. Purples and pinks of all different varieties dance upon the shimmering pond surface, bright in a sea of black. When the chill sets about them, Yang's spicy ratatouille helps warm them up again – and the rosé only enhances the blushes that bloom across their cheeks.

Blake's hesitant to interrupt the quiet peace between them. She takes a deep breath after a little sip of wine, and then whispers, "When I'm with you, I feel so safe."

Yang glances at her from the corners of her eyes. As if reading Blake's mind, she says, "The SJP won't hurt you, Blake."

"How do you know that?" Blake questions, feeling a stir of irritation in her belly. Her eyebrows knit together as stress she hadn't allowed herself to feel comes crashing down on her, and she continues, "The SJP is going to do everything in its power to wipe out faunus heritage from the State. I got lucky the first time they started deporting faunuskind, but who knows? With how they're going, they might start kicking half-breeds out, too. Or sympathizers! Yang, I've seen what the SJP can do. They've wiped out hundreds – _thousands_ of Grey Fang activists – and half of those are human! _How_ do you know they won't just kill me, too, Yang?"

Yang's hand lands on top of Blake's, her fingers encircling her palm. The touch is enough to divert her irritation, golden eyes snapping to lilac ones. A crease between her eyebrows and the soft wrinkling at the corners of her eyes make Yang look so much older, so much more experienced and reliable than someone of her age should be.

Leaning towards her, the blonde declares, "Because I won't _let_ them, Blake. _I'll_ protect you. Not everyone in the State is out to get faunus, and I have faith that when the time comes, they won't let the SJP hurt you, either."

Blake lets a little breath tumble from her lips. "You're not a superwoman, Yang. What if you can't stop them?"

"Then we'll leave," she decides. When Blake gives her a skeptical look, she states, "I'm serious."

Frowning, the half breed murmurs, "Think about what you're saying. We'll leave? You have a life in the State. You're a human business owner – it doesn't really get that much better these days."

Yang grimaces at that. "Money doesn't mean a thing to me, but you do."

"Yang…"

"No," the blonde interrupts her, shifting up onto her knees to loom over the basket between them and closer to the half-breed. Lavender eyes are filled with fire and passion, and it takes Blake's breath away. Yang holds her hand up against her chest, pressing Blake's pale palm into the steady, strong rhythm of her heartbeat. "Listen, Blake. I've never felt like this about anyone before, and there's no way in hell I'm going to lose anyone else to the SJP. Do you understand that? I _will_ fight for you if I have to and I _refuse_ to lose. If it turns out we have to leave, go somewhere else, then so be it."

Blake knows that she should've argued. She knows that she should've pushed Yang away. She should've done anything to ensure the safety of her girlfriend, but when Yang is looking at her in that way – the way that said she truly believed her own words, the way that spoke volumes to the woman's want for heroism – Blake's mind goes utterly still.

Face softening, Yang plants a tender kiss on the top of the half-breed's head and pulls her into a hug. Curling into the warmth, the dark-haired woman slides her hands up along the blonde's back, pressing her closer.

"I love you, Blake."

Inhaling sharply, tears sting Blake's eyes before rolling down the slopes of her cheeks unhindered. Yang had truly meant those words, which were said without a single hesitation. She'd spoken so clearly, it was like Blake had been allowed to peer directly into Yang's heart to prove it for herself. There wasn't a single shred of fear, no indecision.

In Blake's mind, she screams out in reply, _I love you, too!_

But she is not Yang, and her heart isn't sewn on her sleeve. Blake is fearful – of the future, of heartbreak, of danger. She's fearful of what it means to love someone more than herself. Everything in her tells her that she needs to get away, to leave – for Yang's sake. Loving Yang, continuing this relationship, it would only result in danger that could've easily been avoided. Blake longs to cast away her own tendency for the clandestine, to bellow her feelings out selfishly and to desire without concern for others.

 _God, I love you, too,_ she yells once more in her head, burying her face into the nape of Yang's neck. How could she not love Yang? She was so open, so pure, so genuinely caring about the people in her life that it was impossible not to love her. Blake wishes she was ready to say those words to her – she deserves it more than anyone she's ever known. And how true her feelings were!

However, to love someone more than oneself meant also to protect them from oneself.

"Yang… I…" Pain left her feeling nauseous, and her heart quite literally hurt.

"It's okay," Yang whispers, stroking her dark tresses. She lightly kisses the tip of one of her ears. "It's okay, Blake. I've got you."

And so, she cries hard for hours, held in the protective embrace of the one who is, quite possibly, the love of her life.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Hope you liked this update. I'll try to update consistently on Saturdays from now on, as I've taken on quite a few writing projects and am unsure if I can update more frequently. We'll see. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Under Glynda's watchful gaze, Blake's thesis was really starting to become something of note. She couldn't meet with the professor as often as she'd like, as the woman was quite busy, but Glynda was providing excellent support over the new – in addition to publicity.

Publicity. It was never something Blake had ever thought of for her thesis. She had never written thinking about her audience, carefree in her statements – she was the only person who'd read them, anyway. A lot of things had changed.

Blake kind of smiles at that as she curls up on Yang's couch, her laptop resting on her legs, typing out her darlings and her opinions. And to her side is a blond angel, her knees drawn against her chest and a book cracked open, resting on the slopes of her kneecaps. She nibbles on her thumb a little as she reads, vibrant lilac eyes darting back and forth from line to line as she reads – entirely taken away from this world to wherever the book wants her.

It was a book she had in another pile of five she'd asked Blake to let her pay for, with a blue and purple covering and golden rails, a severe and bold title in the top left, _Atlas Shrugged._

"Do you ever read anything that isn't revolutionary?" Blake questions, raising an eyebrow at her.

Never taking her eyes off her page, Yang plucks a book she left on the cushion up and snaps it around with her fingers so she could read the title. _Breaking Dawn._

Blake snorts when she laughs. "Actually, I'm surprised you got through that."

"A lot of people tell me they hate this story but can't tell me why," Yang tells her, flipping a page. "And a lot of people who haven't read this told me it's awful. Well, I wanted to make an opinion for myself. Also, you asked me to read it."

The half-faunus smirks at that, realizing she'd taken pleasure in the way her girlfriend's face would twist in disgust or pain at something she'd read. "And?"

Lilac eyes flick up to her, then to the book in question. She turns it over in her hands and murmurs, "Glossing over the writing itself, it was really sad. The main character's most defining feature is her low self-esteem and the relationship she's in that is abusive. And I feel that they treated the whole vampirism thing with a degree of flippancy. Plus, no fight scenes. How do you have no fight scenes in a book about vampires and shapeshifters?"

"No idea," Blake replies, closing her laptop. She shifts closer to Yang, invading her space and resting her head on the woman's shoulder. "But I'll keep that in mind if I ever ask you to read another vampire book. _Gotsa have fight scenes._ "

A grin flashes at that. "You know, I expected some _good_ story suggestions from an English major."

"You're too smart for me to want to give you smart books."

Yang touches a kiss to the tip of her ear, which flicks in response. "So sassy and so sweet."

"How else will I keep you on your toes?" Blake purrs. Relucantly, she pulls herself away from Yang's side and grabs her laptop up from the couch. Lilac eyes never leave her as she organizes her bag, and when Blake finally looks back at her, she's pouting.

"That time already?"

"Mmhm."

"Skip work," Yang groans, stretching out across the couch and curling her fingers into the half-breed's belt loop. It's cute and childish, and Blake can't help but beam as she's pulled against the couch. "Hang out with me today. Jaune's got the store."

"And he's doing very well," Blake replies, running her fingers through Yang's tangled morning tresses. "But I want to see for myself how the store runs on the weekends."

"You better be ready to be taken away next weekend then," the blond grumbles, pressing her face into Blake's abdomen. "Because I will kidnap you."

"At least Edward's taught you a thing about obsession."

The jab makes her girlfriend stiffen and raise her head to give Blake a narrow-eyed glare.

"Not cool."

"I'm kidding," she tells her, bending to press a quick kiss to her lips before wiggling out of Yang's hold. She throws her bag over her shoulder, glancing over her shoulder as she gets to the door.

It's a mistake. In the morning, between her grogginess and her cuddly nature, Yang was never more forlorn then when Blake wanted to get up and go. She rests her head on the back of the couch, her eyes peering soulfully at her as she reaches the door.

"I can't stay," Blake groans, her voice tight and pained.

"I know," Yang responds, but doesn't keep her eyes off of her. In fact, her bottom lip puckers just the slightest in the most subtle pout that she could manage.

"Don't do that to me."

"Do what?" the blonde asks sadly, her brows knitting in the center.

 _Damnit._ "I'll be back this evening."

Yang nods slightly, her eyes overcast when she gazes up from the shade of her brow. "I know."

Glaring, Blake drops her bag and stomps back over to her girlfriend. In turn, the woman beams and jumps to her feet to receive her. They smash together, Yang's arms encircling her waist and her lips on hers in an instant. Her heat sets Blake afire, her limbs tangling around the blonde – arms bracing around her neck as her legs squeeze about a hard-muscled waist. She feels the couch against her back before she even realizes they've tumbled over – but she doesn't care. Yang's lips on hers are intoxicating and when she nibbles Blake's lip, a low, animalistic rumble vibrates through her chest. Fingers dig into hard shoulders as florid lips tug away, eliciting a begrudging groan, until they brush along a softly curved jawbone, a sigh blowing her dark hair away. Powerful hands squeeze the back of Blake's thighs as they travel up higher, higher, and higher, until they tickle beneath the swell of her bottom. In her belly, an explosion of tingles. Delicious heat shoots through her core, manifesting in the red blush of her cheeks and the dryness of her mouth.

When the passion subsides, Blake's newfound appetite has not. Too soon, Yang's lips leave her clavicle and her warmth is stolen away by a step back. Golden eyes glare ferociously, hungrily, up at the blonde devil who grins, winking at her state.

"Fiend," Blake accuses, tightening her legs around the woman to draw her closer.

"Mmm," Yang breathes, dark and sultry as her fingers travel down the center of Blake's chest. "But don't you just really have to go?"

"You suck."

"I _might_ ," Yang laughs, her body coming back down against her's. She moans when Yang's hands squeeze her glutes, and then gravity falls away when the blonde lifts her up like she weighs nothing. Blake's fingers lock behind her neck, unused to this feeling of lightness and afraid of falling – even if she knows she won't be dropped.

Yang's body is firm as she walks to the door, her body grinding deliciously against Blake's with every step. Running her fingers through those wild yellow tresses, Blake leans into her and nibbles at the base of her neck, tugging her head back for access. When Yang growls, it sends shivers all through the dark-haired woman's body, and she wants ever more to see this woman w _rithe_ at her touch. Her lips cascade down on Yang's flesh, and she bites with abandon this blonde dragon that has set her aflame. When she pulls away, dark purple blossoms beneath Yang's flesh, lined with irate red – Blake's mark on her, a memory of this moment.

As Blake's back presses into the cool door, she glances up into Yang's eyes. She's met with a burning violet stare, but it's not just heat and passion – tenderness, affection, love, all facing naked towards her. It's not just sex, or attraction, and Blake feels it too. Her heart swells and the fire in her gut leaves the rest of her smoldering and weak as she reaches up to kiss her again. She never wants to leave, never wants to be without this woman, for the rest of her life. She wants these feelings forever. She never wants to stop falling and never stop being caught.

"God, you're perfect," Yang whispers, her fingers brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind the half-breed's ear.

When it's said like that, Blake almost believes. "You're okay."

The blonde chuckles and pecks her lips one last time before releasing her. Blake smiles up at her, leaning against the door as her legs wobble unsteadily beneath her. "Maybe you could show me a little more of that tonight."

"You better come back soon," Yang quietly commands, her hand trailing down to caress the nape of her neck. "Are you free tomorrow night, too?"

"I might be," Blake replies, quirking her eyebrow flirtatiously. "Why?"

"You'll see," is the blonde's answer before she turns the door knob, kissing her cheek as she opens the door. "But I'm stealing you all day tomorrow if you come home tonight. So you better not come up with any excuses."

Blake grins at that, snatching her bag up off the ground once more. "When have I ever come up with an excuse _not_ to see you?"

"Keep it that way." Yang winks at her.

Above, the skies are dark with clouds and thunder booms far in the distance. It isn't raining yet, but it might be one of those call-a-cab kind of nights. The city itself is uncharacteristically quiet. No rushing cars, no blank-faced civilians, no real sign that anyone lives here aside from the lights flickering off and on behind closed windows. Weekends are usually less busy – but never quite like this.

When she gets into the bookstore, she understands why.

At her desk, crowding around Blake's POS computer, were the various members of Yang's dojo. Jaune, of course, sat at the desk. Pyrrha stood close at his side, standing close to a ginger-haired woman named Nora and dark-haired man named Ren. There was a tall blue-haired boy Blake thought was named Neptune – though she wonders if she only draws that name because of cliché…

"What's going on?"

Blake's voice interrupts their reverie, and they part to look at her. Between them, she sees that on her screen is a video of a live debate with Weiss as the central member for the opposition. Behind her is a small force to be reckoned with, including Senator Branwen and, to her surprise, Professor Goodwitch.

"Where's the rest of them?" the half-breed questions, coming to stand by the group. "The opposition, I mean."

"Gone," Jaune says first, frowning towards her. "That's all that's left."

Ren quietly tells her, "They brought in a faunus representative named Adam Taurus, and since then, the opposition's been getting smaller and smaller. People listening to him believe that segregation is what the faunus want."

Blake's brow furrows and she looks at the screen. She doesn't say it, but she knows Adam Taurus well from her days in the Grey Fang. He'd all for their cause at first, however after a few instances of unnecessary violence and even a few human deaths, the Grey Fang had thrown him out of their organisation. She'd seen the boy grow up. Hate had marred his mind into something twisted and psychotic – and also alluring. Sometimes, she'd even found herself believing the sick nonsense that came from his mouth.

Her eyes pick him out in the crowd. His hair is bright scarlet, and almost mask the dark crimson of the horns protruding from his temples. Adam's eyes are black as smoke, his lips set in a straight line across his face. He holds himself so tall, so proudly – and he's a leader now more than ever. With his dark trench coat and his dark pants, he's the embodiment of fear and imposition.

"He's a menace," Pyrrha growls.

Blake's eyes snap to the vermilion-haired woman. Her emerald eyes glare straight at the screen. The way she spoke…

 _They all wear grey fangs…_

It strikes her then. The Grey Fang. After they'd been blown to pieces ten years ago, there would have been no way for them to go about organising themselves unless there had been some sort of symbol to identify one another. The grey fangs around their necks, how they all speak about the SJP, they had to be connected.

Opening her mouth, she doesn't get the opportunity to speak when Adam's voice crackles through her curiosity like lightning.

"What you're suggesting is a government rehaul?" is his dark, thinly-veiled snarl. "Childish idealism.."

Dauntless, Weiss throws back at him powerfully, "This isn't idealism – it's pragmatism. Humans aren't so selfish and greedy that they can't learn to live with faunus and vice versa. That sociopathic crap about segregation won't fix anything, that's not how things work, Mr. Taurus. We exist as two species because we're able to cooperate, share, and communicate. You're the only few in the world who say otherwise, who oppose a total unification of our two peoples. If you don't understand what I'm trying to say, I'll put it this way – you're totalitarian, enforcing your beliefs on a majority that do not believe in you, and you're rotten to the core. The world you want isn't the world that people would ever want to live in."

"You're promoting anarchy, Ms. Schnee," Senator Fall drawls. "Chaos."

"That's actually not true," Brawnwen steps in, "but I could see why you might not make the difference. She's promoting a horizontal and directly popular means of government – one that promotes individual empowerment and collective action, equal opportunity and access. A community full of people willing to vote for decision and settle disputes together. That's called democracy, just so you know."

"The people would be leaderless-"

"But _not_ without order," Glynda interrupts this time, taking the podium by Weiss. "You will have an uprising on your hands if you do not listen to your people, Senators. They know that you're misrepresenting them, and more and more everyday leave the State to join a militia group that is preparing to go to war with you."

As the woman continues, Neptune mutters, "Go Glynda. Damn."

"She's killing it," Nora agrees, her voice low.

"It won't matter," Jaune says, his arms crossing over his chest. "Her words are wasted on them. They won't budge."

Out of the corner of her eyes, Blake notices Pyrrha tapping away at her phone – and the recipient's name at the top left hand corner reads "Yang".

Once more, she's interrupted before she can ask.

The door slams open.

They all turn to see a steel-haired man clad in gray walk through the door, flanked by two black-armored policemen with guns. Blake instantly stiffens, but the others in the room react without much fear. They appear at her sides, and Jaune even touches her shoulder as he moves to stand in front of her.

"Senator Black," he greets.

This new side of Jaune surprises her. He'd been so charmingly uncertain when they'd first met, a polar opposite to the man she was witnessing now. He lets his arms hang at his sides, but he holds himself like a lion ready to pounce, shoulders set and chin low.

Senator Mercury Black is a smug, smirking man dressed in blacks, greys and whites. Even his eyes are greyscale. His brows are drawn in a little, challenging furrow. His arms cross over his chest and he stands a powerful sentinel before them.

"Hello, Jaune Arc," the man replies, voice silky and unconcerned. "I see I've come at a bad time. Your leader isn't among you?"

"What leader?" Nora retorts.

Blake is astonished by their bravery. None of them budge, despite the guns that the policemen shift every once in a while – just to remind them that they're a trigger pull away from death. All she can think of is smoke, fire and screams, and she's paralyzed, helpless to them.

"I see you're the new book owner," Black states, his eyes fixing on her now. He never blinks. His stare is unending, digging. "A faunus, too."

"Half-faunus," Jaune corrects, stepping between them. "And she hasn't done anything wrong. In fact, you just entered onto her property without permission. As far as I recall, you've always needed a warrant to do that – and a permissive letter, if you're going to bring weapons, too."

Mercury smiles at that. "You shouldn't question a Senator, Mr. Arc. Especially not when you're running a little terror organisation right above us."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mm." The senator leans to look at Blake. "How about you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blake repeats Jaune, meeting his gaze in a miniscule burst of power. Adrenaline flies through her system and everything inside of her is screaming at her to run, even if it's a dumb idea. "This is a bookstore. We sell books and read all day."

He chuckles. "Well. That's not a crime yet, I suppose."

"So why are you still here, Senator?"

The Senator's face goes dark when the question's asked. No more fun and games. His tone drops an octave and he steps towards them, followed by his policemen, and Jaune meets them. The blonde is at least an inch and a half taller than the senator, but his threat is clear and effective, "You're going to stop whatever's going on upstairs. You tell that to your leader, yeah? Tell her we know everything. We know about her relationship with the half-breed, we know about her sister, we know it all. And we have grounds to execute her and every last one of you."

There's a moment of stillness as the threat settles between them. Ren shares a look with Nora, and Neptune's fists clench at his sides. Pyrrha looks like she's about ready to fight, too – but Jaune is as calm and cool as a statue.

"You better have a damn good reason for threatening my friends just now," he growls, stepping towards Mercury. They're nose to nose as Jaune continues, "I think you ought to get out of here before even _you_ aren't excused from the law's consequences. Imagine how the people would riot – a group of six unaffiliated civilians, martyred by the _great_ Mercury Black."

The Senator's grin returns. He doesn't say anything, turning and leaving along with his policemen. Before he walks out, he looks back at Blake, winking at her before he closes the door behind him.

* * *

A/N: The next coming chapters will be in Yang's POV. Thank you for reading.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

~Part Two – Yang POV~

They were buried outside of the city on a small, grassy hillock among other graves allocated to enemies of the State. Her mother, her father, her sister – all together, on one old, beat up two-foot tall stone made of granite. Their names were in order of their passing – Summer Rose, Ruby Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long… Leaning against the stone is a folded up lawn chair, a collection of orange and brown leaves between its bars. Behind the grave is a tree that Yang had planted after burying her father, a tall flowering cherry blossom tree at the end of its bloom. Petals were beginning to fall, raining whites and pinks across the site.

In life, Summer had loved cherry blossom trees. She remembers a few debates about whether or not to get one – ultimately, they did not, as cherry blossom trees were messy. But out in the hills, with nothing but grass around, there was no need to sweep.

Yang approaches slowly, helmet tucked against her left side and a book in her other hand. She opens up the chair and sits down slowly. It creaks under her weight, rust grinding on rust. The weight on her shoulders presses down on her as she settles into the chair, eyes tired. Her chest is tight as her eyes linger on each name, one by one.

"Hey guys," she says out loud, resting her helmet on the ground. Her thumb brushes over the cover of the book she'd found earlier – _The Golden Compass_ , one of Ruby's favourites as a little girl. "It's been a few days since I last came out here… sorry about that."

Silence follows her sentence as her eyes rise to the skyline, watching the clouds beginning to disperse above them. The earthy tones of rain and dew are heavy in the air, the rain only having dispersed thirty or so minutes before. Yang had caught the tail end of the rain storm, her blond hair drenched in tangles against her back. Droplets of water drop from the cherry blossoms above, striking the gravestone and her.

"I brought Rubes' diary to read," Yang continues. She imagines a loud protest from her sister and smiles to herself. "I'm just kidding. But, I did bring The Golden Compass… I remember you used to ask dad or me to read that to you before bed."

She's about to open the book when she remembers something and says, "Oh, but I've got something to tell you before I start. I… Well, I started seeing someone, a while ago. It's pretty serious now. She's an author, her name's Blake. Actually, Mom, I think you would've liked her a lot…"

She trails off, remembering how her Mom adored writing.

Throat constricting, she tries desperately to swallow past it, her voice barely above a croak when she says, "Dad, you would've liked her, too. She puts up with our kind of humor. Rubes, she owns a bookstore. You would've really hit it off. She's smart as a whip – like you were. You two could've bantered for hours."

Yang's eyes fall to the book as light begins to break through the clouds. It's pretty crisp this morning, but Yang has always run warmer than most, not bothered at all by the chill in the air. She takes a deep breath to steady herself.

"Blake is… amazing," Yang continues, feeling the pain in her heart ebb at the thought of her dark-haired girlfriend. The irritation of her eyes subsides and she feels a genuine pull up at the corners of her lips. "She's really cool, a bit enigmatic – but that's exciting, I think. She hasn't let me read her book yet, but when she works, she does this thing with her eyebrows… They furrow, and kind of rise in the center. Like she's really concentrating. It's cute. Heh…" she realizes how silly and trivial that must've sounded, even though it was something about Blake she really adores. "I guess you can say I'm head over heels. By the way – and this is just for Ruby; Mom and Dad, don't listen – she's _really_ hot. Solid ten.

"Speaking of significant others… Rubes, Weiss is doing a little bit better every day. She, uh, she's not perfect…" as Yang says this, she notices one of Weiss's special white and red roses lying in the grass at the foot of the gravestone. "But you might have already known that… Weiss is really doing her best to try and change the State. You should see her, guys, she's a real powerhouse when she wants to be. Mom, you'd be really proud of her. She's speaking for us today."

Glancing at the time, Yang scoffs at herself. "Right about now, actually. Damn. I said that I'd watch, too. She'll understand, though. She always does. Even if she does bicker forever. And – Rubes - she _does_ bicker. It's true, she even admits it."

She remembers the first time she'd ever met Weiss, they had squabbled over something stupid at a restaurant – much to the amusement of all of Yang's family, who had simply watched on, trying to contain their laughter, as they argued.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, though," the blonde admits, scratching the back of her neck. "She _is_ my sister-in-law, after all. Closest thing to family I've got now. And there's no doubt that she's been the greatest friend to me…"

A warm breeze flies over the hilly countryside. It washes over Yang, warding away the chill on the tip of her nose and ears. Petals fly around her, drifting away as the wind carries them over the graveyard. A large, white blossom flutters down towards her, spiralling in circles before it lands on the back of her right hand. Yang imagines her mother reaching out to her, and her heart aches once more as she reaches to pluck it from her skin, holding it carefully in her palm instead.

"Yeah, I'm - I'm getting there," Yang whispers, lightly brushing the pad of her thumb across the soft white flesh of the petal. "It's been hard without you guys. Ruby, Dad… losing you two so close together… it was really hard for me. This whole freedom fighting thing was always more your thing, Rubes, than it was mine… Dad, I'm just trying to fill my life up with as many good things as I can – like you told me to. I still wish… I still wish I could've filled your life up with good things, too. Maybe you wouldn't have… Maybe you'd still be fighting here with me."

 _Make love your goal,_ Taiyang had told her, just hours before he jumped.

"Mom, I'm trying to make you proud every day," she admits, feeling a little sheepish. "Something I ask myself often is, 'What would Summer do?' and then I go ahead and do stupid things anyway. I remember how important you thought it was to take leaps, not to be afraid. At least, after this long, I can definitely tell you I'm not afraid of taking chances anymore. I've got my eyes open now. I'm taking this whole Grey Fang thing you helped start seriously…"

Reaching into her pocket, she draws out the two-inch long wooden fang, so old the grey paint has peeled off. Its leather cord is loose and cracking with age.

"I might be just about ready to wear this," Yang sighs, tangling the cord around her fingers. "Maybe it's time I get my little group out of the city, eh? More people ask to join every week. It'll be hard to keep this hidden if more come around.

"Gosh, look at me rambling. Alright, enough of that. I'll start now," she states suddenly, deciding to change her tone. No sense in making the dead upset, she decides. Cracking open the book, she begins to read aloud, "'Lyra and her daemon moved through the darkening hall…'"

Yang reads as the clouds are blown away overhead. The dark dreariness of the rain seems like a nigh-forgotten memory as the morning sun radiates upon the land, evaporating dew and droplet alike, bringing to life the singing of birds and the curious scampering of squirrels. She'd read _The Golden Compass_ so often to her sister that she almost didn't need the book to tell the story, reciting line after line as she allows her attention to be swept up by the nature around her.

It was hard not to reminisce about the small moments she'd taken for granted way back when her family was still alive. Making cookies with her mom, boxing lessons with her dad, bed-time stories and pillow fights with her sister…

 _"Mom!"_

 _Ruby and Yang stumble into the door, the young redhead propping the blonde up enough so she could walk. The blonde, covered in bruises, grumbles at her sister for having immediately called for their parents despite asking her not to. She's not that hurt, not really. Her leg has seen better days…_

 _Summer comes running down the stairs. Her silver eyes fly open wide at the sight of her eldest daughter hanging around her youngest daughter's shoulders, and she cries out, "What happened?"_

 _Her yelling alerts their father, who emerges from the sun room with eyebrows risen._

 _"Hun- oh, damn. What happened to you?" Taiyang isn't nearly as hysterical as Summer, who practically flies into the bathroom to get their first aid kit. His deep blue eyes scan patiently over the blonde as Ruby helps her to the kitchen, plopping down on one of the stools by the center island. "Did you get into a fight?"_

 _"Yeah," Yang mutters, shooting a glare at her sister._

 _Ruby doesn't seem to even notice, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she turns to their father. She exclaims, "She was amazing, Dad! There was like four of them, and they kept pulling at my cloak and pushing me around. Yang just came out of_ nowhere _, like a superhero!"_

 _Taiyang grins at that._

 _"Stop smiling," Summer snaps at him as she rushes to Yang's front. Taiyang presses his lips together but the dimples of his smile remain. Dropping to her knees, Summer scans over Yang, touching her arms and finding scabs and cuts that the kid didn't realize she'd even had. "Don't encourage this. Look at her!"_

 _Taiyang crosses his arms as he leans against the fridge._

 _"They were trying to hurt Ruby," Yang defends, wincing as her mother dabs at her cuts with an alcohol swab. "Ow."_

 _Summer scoffs. "You shouldn't get into fights if you don't like cleaning up after them."_

 _Yang heaves a great big sigh and lets her mother fret about her injuries. She realizes one of her eyes are beginning to swell shut, and she has a cut on her lip, too. Her lavender eyes catch her dad's in the silence._

 _There's a light in his eyes as he asks her, "So…did you win?"_

 _"_ Tai! _" her mother snaps. But her curiosity is betrayed by a side-long glance she shoots to her daughter._

 _"I won, Dad," Yang says, smiling up at him. "They didn't stand a chance."_

 _"You're going to have to apologize to th-" Summer tries, but is interrupted by the youngest._

 _"Can you teach me to box, too, Dad?" Ruby pipes up, practically bouncing on the spot. "I want to do what Yang did. She was so_ cool _!"_

 _"Maybe when you're ten, too," Taiyang offers._

 _"Yay!"_

 _Summer glares at the both of them and shoos them out of the kitchen so she can continue her work on Yang. The blonde is quiet, expecting a lecture after the last bandage is fixed upon her elbow. Letting out a relieved breath, Summer leans back on her heels and rests her hands on Yang's shoulders. Her silver eyes stare into Yang's lilac ones, her lips set in a hard line across her face._

 _"Did you have to?" she asks._

 _Yang's eyebrows rise at the question. "Well… Yeah. The teachers weren't doing anything. They weren't stopping and it was getting worse…"_

 _Summer leans forward and kisses Yang between the eyebrows, holding still a moment before pulling her into a tight hug. There was never a time where she'd felt any safer or more loved by her mom than right then. Closing her eyes, Yang smiles into her mother's shoulder._

 _"I'm so proud of you, hunny," the woman whispers into her unruly hair._

A buzzing in her pocket stirs her from her thoughts. She pauses her reading to take her phone out, flipping it open when she sees a text from Pyrrha.

 _'BLACK WAS HERE.'_ Yang's brows knit together, her lips tugging into a hard frown as she realizes who she means. Mercury Black, one of Senator Fall's most trusted allies, with ties all throughout law enforcement in the state. He was a force to be reckoned with, and an outed faunus hater –

 _Blake._

Heart sinking, Yang jumps to her feet. She plucks her helmet off the ground and before she positions it on her head, she looks towards the gravestone.

"I'm sorry, guys," she says, earnest, "This is important. I love you. I'll be back!"

Yang charges off, pulling the helmet over her mane of hair. She does up the clip without breaking her pace, running through the hills back towards her motorcycle. It waits for her, dripping with dew – she'd been there longer than she'd intended. Grinding her teeth, she hops onto the back of the golden vehicle, engaging the clutch and flicking the engine on. The motorcycle roars as it comes to life between her legs, its engine still cold when she kicks off the parking brake and starts easing forward.

The vehicle booms as she loosens the throttle and Yang explodes forward. Yang has to tighten her hold, her abdomen flexing responsively as the momentum threatens to throw her off entirely. She flies through the peaceful rolling hills, chaos in a quiet prairie. The roads are wet and damp leaves threaten her traction when she makes turns, especially sharp ones, her back wheel slipping once and launching her heart into her throat. Adrenaline floods through her veins, driving away any fear, any doubt, and it helps her focus.

If Senator Black had already shown up at the bookstore, it meant a few things. He could know about the Grey Fang stationed there. He could be targeting Blake for her dissertation. It could be both. And he wouldn't have come alone. He would've brought some armed guards along, just in case he d _id_ happen upon something incriminating.

It takes a while to get back to the city. Around forty minutes, she thinks. The roads are alive, but she doesn't bother slowing down yet. She sees some congestion past an intersection, and wonders if she can just skip around it by going down the middle of the r-

 _Bang!_

The sky flashes blue before her vision, and then there's the grey of pavement, and then blue again as she's flung through the air. The force blasts through her and she feels her ribs snap beneath the impact. White hot pain flares across her torso, and all she can think to do is close her eyes as she listens to a monstrous engine roar. A shadow descends on her as the truck plows over her motorcycle, crushing it beneath its tires, which chase after her. Shoulder striking the ground, Yang's powerless to find any footing as the momentum spins her over and over. Tarmac bites into her skin in the places her leathers have worn away – her left side and leg.

Yang hasn't stopped rolling as the truck rolls over her. Her head slams into the ground as the wheels bare down on her, crushing the air from her lungs. When the second set of tires comes, her helmets cracks and groans, the glass shattering in her face.

She ends up on her back. The truck carries onward, screeching to a halt.

Yang gasps to fill her lungs. She pushes herself around, biting back a scream of pain when she uses the wrong arm to support herself. Glass shards tumble from her face as she shakes her head, desperate just to get them away from her eyes.

"She's still alive!"

Blood oozes down the side of her leg where the road had ripped her armor away. She feels it pool into her boot as she tries to stand, holding her arm in an L-shape against her broken ribs. Even though she can breathe, her lungs labor, and she feels like she's got water in them.

A gunshot rings out; she snaps to. Three men pour out of the truck that hit her, and two of them have their weapons trained on her. Cars veer around, U-turning or bolting through the intersection to get away from the area.

Eyes flying wide, Yang bolts to the nearest alley. A car flies behind her just as another shot rings, and she hears it smack into car's frame.

 _Must be Black's guys,_ she decides, another bullet smacking into the wall across from her just as she turns the corner. Her run is hampered by the pain in her leg and side, more like a fast limp than anything. _Shit._

"After her!"

Yang hobbles down to the end of the alley, cutting into the left at the end. She plants her back against the wall, her lungs aching as she gasps for air.

 _Shit._

Heavy footsteps thunder down the alley after her. When a barrel peeks around the corner, she slams her hand down on it, forcing it down. The gun fires, but her glove protects her from the heat for the moment, and she drives the butt of the rifle straight back into the guy's stomach. He's not wearing any protection. He curls in on himself with a groan, and she slams her helmet down on the top of his head. He drops like a sack.

A shot rings out, followed immediately by a crackle of agony in her arm. Yang cries out as the bullet rips through her bicep, and she returns to the cover of her corner for a second.

She fumbles with the rifle. Her hands shake as adrenaline pumps through her, and she nearly drops the weapon twice. As the guy comes around the corner, she's just ready for him, squeezing the trigger without aiming. His head explodes and the gun rips itself from her hand, the kickback tossing it behind her.

Around the corner, a third voice yells out, "We need back-up!"

 _Shit!_

Turning tail, Yang moves as fast as she can down the alley. Her boot squishes with every step, her blood hot against her skin. With her good hand, she pats for her phone in her pocket, and when she pulls it out, she flips it open. She dials Jaune's number, and he picks up almost immediately.

 _"Hello?"_

"Jaune!" Yang yells, turning another corner, "Get Weiss and Blake! Get the out of the city! _Now!"_

"What? Yang?"

" _Go!_ "

She slams her phone closed, tossing it against the wall hard enough for it to shatter. The further she runs, the more her head starts to feel fuzzy. Her body is slow to respond to her commands, and her chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill her lungs with enough air to sustain her.

Loosening her jacket seems to help, and she discards it along with the remaining pieces of her helmet. Her path is clear through the alleys, but she knows her destination will probably be crawling with more people.

Yang has to go back to her loft. She's not ready just to leave.

The building isn't far off, and she manages to sneak in through the garage. Black's guys didn't make it obvious for her by having their trucks just around, and she assumes it was just in case their first hit failed. The blond travels across the parking lot, making sure to keep one side to the wall, travelling along the edge with the most cars.

A gunshot fires off behind her.

Yang made a mistake. She bolts to the door, punching in the code on the left-hand side, and locking the door behind her once she's in. She'd forgotten that there'd been three back where she'd been hit. She doesn't have time to mess around.

Making her way with her side against a wall, she checks each corner before she advances across. She manages to dodge a couple hallways with more armed people, but the elevators are all guarded. She grinds her teeth as she goes to the stairwell, knowing that won't be much better. She throws the doors open and makes her way up, damning herself for having chosen one of the higher floors.

Just as she'd expected, there were a couple guards in the stairwell. One of them heard her coming up and came down to meet her, but her aim was unsteady and she took a second too long. She reaches her before she can fire, slamming the back of her good hand into the side of her head and throwing her over the rail between the staircases. She cries out as she falls. Yang continues up and catches the next one off guard tugging the back of his collar hard enough that he slams the back of his head off a stair, and tumbles down to the last landing.

Coming up to her floor, Yang bursts through the door – slamming its corner into another guard's head. There's an audible crack as the guard's head twists, and she leaps over his body. She's unopposed as she reaches her room, and she tackles it open. A jolt of pain goes through her but she grits her teeth and bears with it, making her way through the apartment. Going to her bedroom, she finds one of Ruby's old diaries – a detailed account of her plans for the Grey Fang, and the state.

"Sorry, sis," she murmurs, committing its worn leather cover to memory as she goes back to her living room. Among the other many bookcases, she hides it – between two other untitled leatherbound books. Taking a breath, she makes a show of tossing some books to the ground, picking out a couple particularly controversial ones. Her timing's good; just seconds later, people come storming through the door.

Yang lets them get close to her, fisting one book just as the first on reaches her. She backhands them with the book, cracking them hard in the cheekbone. Another takes their place, grabbing her hand and throwing her back into her glass wall. It cracks when two others move to pin her against it. A groan of pain slips from her lips as the person on her broken arm cruelly presses against it, and she feels her bone slide further away. Her fingers go numb.

"You're a tough one, Yang Xiao Long."

Raising her gaze, she glares as Mercury Black himself walks into her loft. He has a cocky smirk on his face, his hands behind his back as he approaches, a few other armed men trailing behind him.

"I met your posse earlier today," he tells her, sauntering around the couch. She narrows her eyes at him. "You have a pretty girlfriend, by the way."

A feral noise escapes Yang as she thrashes forward, freeing her good arm for a second. She swings at Mercury when he gets close, but he steps out of her reach just in time – and the woman pins her down again.

"Don't you worry, I didn't hurt them. I've got nothing on them. But you… You know, we didn't realize you were actually blood-related to Ruby Rose back when she died," Mercury monologues, his dark eyes flicking about the apartment. "You were involved all that time ago when the first Grey Fang riots broke out. But somehow, you got out alive. How's that?"

The one on her broken arm presses harder. Pain so intense crackles through her body and her stomach churns with nausea. She suppresses a groan, pursing her lips.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," he relents when she doesn't speak. Viciously, he smirks. "Your friends will slip up eventually without you. But please, tell me one thing?"

When they let off the pressure, she sighs in relief. "What?"

"Why did you come here?" he asks, jerking his chin in the direction of the books. "For those?"

"I can't let you burn them," she replies, her voice wavering in her light-headedness. "Some of these are the last of their kind. I can't let them be destroyed."

"Hmph." Mercury stares at the bookcases for a long time. His expression is contemplative as his dark eyes travel their spines, and for one anxious moment, she fears he won't take the bait. Eventually, he orders, "Burn the books and kill her. Slowly. So she can watch."

With that, the Senator leaves, and she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. He closes the door behind him, and his guards waste no time in their job. They haul her off the wall and throw her to the floor, slamming her down. Her face smacks off the hardwood. Her vision instantly blurs, and she hardly feels it when they start stomping on her. Yang dwells on the border of consciousness and rest, her eyes glazing over as she turns to watch them set fire to the bookcase with Ruby's diary is. And though this is the end, she feels nothing but glad.

"That'll end it," one of them growls, and with a quick downward stroke, something hard and cool slides between her shoulder blade and her spine. Yang feels the breath escape her, and blood pools in her mouth instantly – warm, coppery. She goes still, the energy to move completely draining from her limbs.

They leave her.

The flames encapsulate the bookcase now, and are starting to reach across the room. The heat that rolls from their orange tongues is comforting, and she closes her eyes as the scent of smoke fills her nostrils. As she drifts off, she dreams of wavy tresses of dark, silky hair, and warm, tender eyes the color of honey.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Yang!"

 _There are no more smiles. She travels down the stairs, thrusting her hands through the sleeves of her dark leather jacket. She passes by the cherrywood coat hanger, adorned only by the crimson trench with the silver chains in the back. Face dark, she doesn't bother to lock the door behind her. The carpet of the hallway outside had red trim._

 _The winter chill has long since seeped through the concrete walls, leeching into the main hallway of the building. Her breath billows out white clouds in front of her face before she's even outside. A throbbing, aching reminder in her hands reminds her of her healing knuckles. She pushes them in against her abdomen for warmth, which she is in excess of, and makes her way down the snowy street. Her neighborhood was half-demolished, reminiscent of a wasteland more than a place for people to live. To think, just days before, it had been a fairly respectable suburb._

 _Now, houses were mere frames in a sea of rubble. Fences were charred spikes, the snow driving the chill through the coals. Even her building had taken a hit, with the lower half of the building black with soot. This was her home, where she'd moved out of her father's place along with her sister, maybe a year or two before._

 _The snow gets deeper the further towards the edge of the city she gets. Aside from her hands, the cold feels good. She'd spent a long time just lying in her bed, doing nothing, since Ruby… Rubes… Her throat chokes up, and she raises her violet gaze indignantly. She hadn't eaten, hadn't slept. Not in a few days. She'd spent a lot of the time crying, and she sure as hell wasn't going to waste more time crying over the past when she should've been cherishing it._

 _Yang pauses when she gets to the crosswalk. She's a bit early, she thinks, confirming it with a quick glance to her cell to check the time._

 _With a sigh, she finds a stop sign to lean against and lets her mind wander. For a few moments, she's lost in a quiet reverie. Her eyes drift without her realizing, gaze landing on the flickering of small burnt sienna and large fiery orange. Two maple leaves clinging to the same branch, dancing dangerously on a gentle breeze._

 _Yang hears her footsteps. She turns to see Weiss, a black scar in a sea of white, with a slash of red draped about her shoulders. Her blue eyes are tender pools of sadness, glassy and soft. The familiar glint was gone, the life was gone; she meets Yang's gaze._

 _The blond's throat constricts. She pushes herself off of the stop sign and, wordless, sweeps the platinum-haired woman into a tight embrace. Weiss's shoulder tremble as she dips her head against Yang's shoulder, where warm droplets fall against her skin and jacket. Holding her tight, Yang rests her chin on the top of Weiss's head, her eyebrows furrowing as she fights her own emotions. She feels two dainty hands ball her jacket into a tight grasp and knows she needs to keep staying strong._

"Code blue in emerge!"

 _"Come on," Yang murmurs. They'd been standing at the crossroads for a long time, and it was high time they start moving. Nodding, the white-haired politician crosses her arms around herself for warmth when the blond pulls away._

 _"Thanks, Yang," Weiss whispers, glancing up at her. "I know this is hard for you, too."_

 _"Don't worry about me," Yang insists, managing a brief, small smile. "It's my job to take care of you now."_

 _Weiss glares at her, the glint making her look a little more like her old self. "You're the worst."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _They start to walk towards the funeral. Weiss walks against her side, her arm brushing the blond's with every step. Yang doesn't mind, and makes no comment, getting lost in her own thoughts again. Ever since Ruby first brought her home, they'd had a relatively rocky relationship. It wasn't that they didn't like one another, but that their personalities caused friction, both opinionated and firm in their own ways. They argued regularly, but they had good moments, too. Enough to cultivate a bond of family, of trust._

 _Weiss was the last thing of Ruby she had._

 _If her sister had found a reason to love her and accept her into the family, Yang had not only a responsibility - but a desire - to keep it that way._

 _"We were gonna have kids, you know," Weiss whispers, just loud enough to catch the blond's attention. Yang's heart seizes in her chest at the thought, and it's enough to make tears well up in her eyes again. "She wanted two, or three. We started doing research on artificial insemination. I was gonna go first."_

 _Reaching out to her, Yang grabs her hand. It's more for herself than it was for Weiss. The thought of her baby sister being a mom made her so proud and so heartbroken._

 _"She'd have been a great mom," Yang chokes out. "And you, too."_

 _A little crunch underneath her boot catches her attention. She lifts her foot, revealing a small burnt sienna maple leaf. Her heart aches._

 _In her pocket, her phone buzzes, only to be unanswered._

"Let me in!"

"You can't be in here!"

 _When her father didn't show, she started to worry. She walks quickly, and Weiss follows behind as fast as she can. Her mind churns. She remembers a few phone calls from him, how he'd sounded like a wreck, but she'd been so caught up in her own sadness, she couldn't bear his as well. The seeds of despair root in her gut. She starts running._

 _"Yang!" Weiss calls out, but she can't slow down._

 _Running through the city is easy. The snow isn't piling as high as out in the suburbs, and the warmth of the cars and businesses open on either side of the street help keep her muscles flexible. She powers through alleys. She cuts across parking lots. Her hands pump and slice the air in front of her, her sprint carrying her a long way. She doesn't feel the soreness or the way her muscle burn in protest after awhile. She wouldn't care if she did._

 _People turn to look at her with raising eyebrows, odd expressions, questions. Their faces are blurs in her vision. They make way for her, and she hears some of them wonder what's going on._

 _How could any of them understand?_

 _They're all sheeple. All of them. Their worlds are black and white, dictated by a small minority of people. Willingly allowing their lives to be manipulated, their minds to be coerced, their lives revolve around…what? Ultimate 'peace'? A false, totalitarian,_ politically correct _world where differences of opinions are met with violence? What good is that?_

 _Why was any of it worth anything?_

 _Yang's teeth grind. Her anger pushes her to run faster. Heat burns all the way through her. At the core of her problems was a dark, hard reality – she didn't have an answer that made sense of any of this. Why was the world so worth it that Ruby died fighting to change it? And her mother? Why were people, who'd done nothing but hurt one another, so worth fighting for? How many more would fight and die trying to change the world? How many more would be taken from her?_

 _Was it all really worth dying over?_

"Get the AED, she's in VF."

"Clear!"

 _"Dad!"_

 _She bursts through the door of his apartment. It's been tidied, something Taiyang Xiao Long was won't to do. Four chairs tucked in pretty against a dark table, an empty vase on its surface, his bed and the kitchen just beyond just a meter apart from one another. It takes her about thirty seconds, walking through the small bachelor, to realize he's not there._

 _A few seconds after that, she notices a folded up piece of paper on the table. Yang snatches it up, reading the first three lines before the horror sets in._

 _"Yang!" Weiss's voice cries from down the hall. She stumbles into the door frame, attempting to catch her breath and ask a question, but Yang's already on the move._

 _The blond slaps the letter into Weiss's hands, not bothering to wait for her to take it before she's rushing for the stairs._

Please.

 _Yang takes the stairs three, sometimes four, at a time. Her eyes are fixed forward, wide with hysteria, as she mounts the staircases one after another. Her mouth is dry. Her throat hurts. There's a lead brick in her stomach weighing her down. When she reaches the top floor, she bursts through the doors to the ceiling._

 _And he's there, standing on the rail, his toes hanging off the edge._

 _"Dad, no!" Yang charges forward. She's fast to get to him. Faster than his reaction, faster than gravity. She skids to a halt, catching the side of the building with her leg and torso as her hand sweeps down and catches his wrist. Her knuckles scream in protest, electricity shooting up her arm. He's heavy, and she has to brace herself on the rail just to hold him up._

 _Taiyang dangles off the edge for a second, looking down in shock until he realizes what's going on. He looks up at her, his eyes dull, numb. He reaches up to her hand, his skin cold against her wrist._

 _"Hold on," Yang begs, her shoulders trembling with the effort of holding him. "Hold on to me."_

 _"Yang," he breathes, gazing up at her._

 _She slips a little, and she desperately scrambles to hold onto his fingers with both hands, leaning halfway over the building now. Her legs are the only thing keeping her on, her hips digging painfully into the cement of the ledge. His fingers curl around her wrist._

 _"Don't let go!" Yang orders, tears dripping from her cheeks. She hadn't realized she was crying. "If you love me, don't let go."_

 _Taiyang looks up at her, dim baby blue pools. He glances towards the ledge, watching her tremble, watching her begin to slip further over the side. She grits her teeth, attempting to pull him up. A cry rips its way out of her as she hauls him up._

"Come back, Yang."

 _Trembling, Yang manages to lift her father up about a foot. She quickly slides her hand up his forearm, but the movement jerks her out of her spot. Gravity pulls him down and she nearly goes off the edge, twisting just in time to keep her one leg hooked over the side. Expletives pour from her lips as she searches for some way to get out of this._

 _"Yang."_

 _Turning to look at her dad, her eyes widen at the serene, loving expression on his face. He smiles gently up at her as his fingers wrap around her hand, pushing between her and his forearm._

 _"No! Dad, no," the blond tries to tighten her hold. "Please, please, please, no!"_

 _"You're my pride, Yang," he whispers and pries her hand from his forearm. Yang cries out when his weight drops on her hand, and his fingers slip out of her grip helplessly. Powerless, all she can do is watch as he falls, screaming even after he's hit the ground._

 _The emotions that had been bubbling in her boil over. She snaps completely and totally, slamming her fists into the cement ledge repeatedly, her wails blood-curdling and furious. Yang punches her fists raw, ignoring the burning as her skin is torn away, as her strikes start to leave crimson splotches across the stones._

 _"Yang, stop it!"_

 _The blond hardly heard it, blinded with rage at herself. She only sees red. She burns hot with fury._

 _"Stop!" Cool arms encircle her waist. She's pulled towards the roof, pushed gently into a porcelain neck. Yang yells into Weiss's shoulder, gripping the woman by the coat as the emotions rush out of her. The woman holds her tight, bringing her away from the ledge until they stumble onto the floor of the roof. They stay there for a long time, and Weiss just holds her tight, letting her ride out all that's in her heart._

 _Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Eyes fluttering open, Yang's vision is overwhelmed with light before her eyes finally adjust to the white all around her. They sting with the effort of adjusting as if they hadn't done so in a long time. She blinks a few times, swallowing hard through the worst dryness she's ever had. She lifts her right hand up to her face. It doesn't come.

Yang jolts. She sits up, looking down at herself with wide eyes. Instead of an arm, there was a stump, about five inches long from where her shoulder starts. She cries out. Her heart races. Lights flash in her eyes. Is she breathing? She can't breathe.

An alarm sounds to her left. The heart monitor screams.

Before she knows it, two nurses burst through the door. She yells incoherently as they approach her.

One of them comes up to the bed, his hands held out in front of him, palms facing her. "Calm down, Ms!"

"What?!" she shrieks, bewildered. She tries to rip the electrodes from her skin. "What the fuck do you mean 'calm down'?!"

On her other side, the other nurse works at her IV.

"Get away," Yang warns, noticing the needle in her hand. "If you put that in there, I'll kick you."

"Ma'am, you need to settle down," the nurse to her right says. He looks anxious, like he really believes her.

Yang keeps her eye on the woman, who pokes the needle into the tube. Like promised, she twists herself around so she's perpendicular to the bed and snap-kicks the nurse's chin. The woman falls over like a sack of bricks.

"We have a situation in room 1304…"

Jerking around, Yang scoffs. "Really? You're calling for help?"

The man says, "I need to give you that drug, you're not supposed to be awake yet."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Ma'am," he attempts to speak, just as two other people come into the room. They don't speak, they just immediately move to pin her down. She lets out an angry yell, struggling to kick and punch as best as she can, but loses. The nurse that had been talking to her gets to her needle and finishes the injection.

Everything goes blurry practically in an instant, and she passes out.

She feels like she's been sleeping a long time. Even in her unconscious state, her mind can register this, and she isn't sure whether she's ready to wake or not. She dreams infrequently, but when she does it's of Blake and she realizes upon their ending how deeply she misses her. And that's why she's not entirely sure she wants to wake up. Who, in their right mind, would want to stay in a relationship that just started, with a cripple? As time goes on, she processes this. She's not aware, but the human mind has mysterious ways of coping.

Slowly, she chooses to open her eyes. She blinks slowly and frequently, her eyes unfocused on the bubble of pastel colors above her head. Quiet snoring to her left greets her, and she turns her head just a little to see Weiss resting on her forearm, a hand gently holding hers. Despite herself, Yang can't help but smile. She squeezes the platinum-haired woman's fingertips, letting her attention wander across the room.

It certainly had a very _Weiss_ feel. Most of the room was dull colors, and Yang has a sneaking suspicion that the only reason everything isn't white is because of Ruby. She smiles a little at the choices in color, imagining her younger sister moving through this room and picking out random colors that don't match simply for the sake of having them. The bed was the most indicative of this process, with light lavender curtains that had blue splotches, almost like tie-dye, along with stripy black and yellow blankets. Beneath her head is a bright red pillow.

Yang lets her gaze wander over the furniture. The heiress's influence wasn't gone, with most of the wood in the room – the bed frame, the dresser, the nightstand, even the chair Weiss was sitting in, all stark white. Everything is tidy and in order, even the pictures on the dresser seemed to have an order. There are doyleys on both the dresser and the nightstand, just slightly grayer than the furniture they adorn.

Yang wrinkles her nose. "I hate doyleys."

Weiss startles, letting out an uncharacteristic snort before blinking open her eyes. She wipes at her face, looking down at the watch on her hand. She glances up at Yang once, and then double takes when she realizes the blonde is looking back at her.

"You're awake!"

"You snore so loud, I couldn't sleep," she jokes, an easy grin on her face.

Paying no mind, Weiss throws herself at Yang. She forces a big Yang-style hug on the blond herself, squeezing her tight enough that breath flies out of her and her ribs ache in protest. She holds back any noise of pain, raising her arm to hug the woman back.

"You have no idea how worried I was. You've been asleep for two weeks."

Yang's spirits fall at that. She really had been sleeping a long time, and Blake… "I got hit by a truck."

"And had many bones broken. And you were stabbed. And your apartment was on fire. And your arm was so badly injured that they…had to…" Weiss seems to remember herself, trailing off and glancing down at the wound. She chews on her bottom lip. "They…told me that with how bad you broke it, and how awfully burnt you were, you'd be in constant pain if they left it. They said there was no way to save it… I… I am your next of kin, according to your papers…"

"You gave them the OK."

Weiss looks away, eyebrows furrowing. Her eyes turn into soft goopy puddles and an instant later, tears stream down her face. "God, Yang, I'm so sorry."

Lilac eyes widen slightly. "What? Why?"

"Your arm, and everything that's happened to you," she whispers, gazing down at her lap. "I can't fathom being in your shoes, Yang. You just go through so much. Life hits you with everything you can, and here I am all the time, and I can't even hold myself together for more than a day or two…"

"It's not like I'm doing much better," Yang supplies, trying to be comforting. "Come on, Weiss. You're there for me a ton. If it wasn't for you, I could've done some really stupid things."

Weiss's face twists with anxiety. She won't meet Yang's eyes, and she shakes her head. Her lips tug into a depressed frown. She looks…ashamed. Her face is blotchy from her tears, and her cerulean eyes seem to contrast powerfully as her face darkens.

Reaching forward, Yang grasps her hand once more and squeezes it tight. "I know you wouldn't do it if you thought there was any better way, Weiss. If the doctors say it was FUBAR, then I believe it. Really, I'm just surprised you managed to find a hospital that would see me without someone coming to burn it down."

Weiss gives a faint, wry half-chuckle at that. "It wasn't easy. I had to have you smuggled out, too."

Blond eyebrows go skyward.

The Senator nods. "I was having a hard time finding ways to keep your existence hidden from the rest of the Senate. I had to keep my day job while you were in the hospital recovering so that it didn't seem too suspicious when I disappeared."

Yang glares at her, grumbling, "You were supposed to go with Jaune and Pyrrha."

"Well, you're not the boss of me," Weiss retorts. "Besides, if I had, you'd be dead. I'm the one that found you. No one else knew what your plan was if we ever got discovered."

"By design."

"I know. But it's high time you stop living just to try to find ways to end it," is her stern, hard reply. Suddenly ferocious, she stares into Yang's eyes. "You're like family to me, Yang. I need you here to help me fight this fight. And so do they."

It was Yang's turn to look away.

Leaning closer, Weiss puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her, "You have to figure out whether you're in this to win it, or if you're really just trying to follow in your family's footsteps. You need to stop putting yourself at risk. You're a _leader_ now, Yang. And Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren, and all those other people that chose to support the Grey Fang, they take orders from you. They have to be able to trust you. And you have to trust them. We are nothing without each other."

Nodding slowly, the blond mutters, "Okay. I get it."

Weiss's eyes flick between both of Yang's before the fight visibly leaves her in the form of a sigh. She stands up and walks to the door, murmuring, "I'm going to get some tea. And I'm going to try and contact Blake."

At the mention of the dark-haired woman, Yang perks up. "Blake?"

"Yeah," Weiss's voice grows cold. "She went missing after Senator Black showed up at the bookstore and threatened everyone. I've been trying to get a hold of her ever since."

Weiss walks away, and Yang's heart plummets and shatters. Narrowing her eyes in self-loathing, she supposes it was for the best anyway. How could she ask anyone to stay by her side, with all that was happening?


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

A week later, the scars on her stump were still vibrant. They were jagged, sewn lines in a neat star-like shape at the point, swollen and red. During the lonely moments, Yang isn't quite sure how to cope. She catches herself staring down at where her arm should be, sometimes even plays with the stitching sewing the flaps of her stump together. Most of the time, her wound is dressed with a thin elastic band type of thing, but it itches. A lot.

As Yang peels away the dressing for the third time that day, she lets out a huff of air as she positions her stump over a bowl sitting on her nightstand. It was a mixture of saline and hydrogen peroxide that Weiss prepared for her, and she was supposed to use cotton swabs to clean the wound. She leans close to it, frowning in concentration as she dips one of the balls into the liquid. Her tongue peeks out between her teeth as she initially dabs at her injury, wincing a little as her left hand clumsily attempts the circular motions Weiss's private nurses showed her.

One good poke at a suture elicits a loud, 'Fuck!' from her lips, and she throws the cotton ball to the side.

 _To hell with this,_ Yang thinks, and dunks the whole stump in the mixture. She spasms her shoulder so her stump splashes around, sending liquid all over the nightstand. When she notices crimson and gunk in the liquid, she sits away, satisfied.

"You, uh, you'll really do anything you can to avoid asking for help, won't you?"

Yang glances up at the door frame to see Jaune, arms crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the door frame. His dark blue eyes trail over her analytically. There's a thoughtful look in his eyes, like there normally is, and she's thankful that he's at least not looking at her as if she's something to be pitied.

"That's not it," she replies, going about wrapping her stump. "I just didn't realize anyone was here. How are you doing with the move?"

Jaune's eyes are on her. "It's fine. We all knew this would happen sooner or later. Ren and Nora are safely over the border. Pyrrha and I stayed because…well."

"Weiss showed you Ruby's plans for getting everyone out?" Yang questions as she wrinkles her nose when her wrapping falls apart just as she's about to tie it, and goes about re-doing it.

"There's that," he admits. He dips his head. "I…also just can't leave, you know? Not while you and Weiss are stuck, not while everyone else is stuck."

"Why not?" Yang tries to use her teeth to pull the bandages tightly over her stump, but something slips and it unravels at the bottom, scraping painfully against her sutures. With a sigh, she unwraps it.

"Ruby was a close friend," Jaune tells her. He pushes himself off the door frame and steps up to her side. Indignant, Yang glares at him when he reaches for the bandages. The man simply gives her a hard look, and says, "There's no shame in needing help once in a while. You've helped me a lot, especially this past year. Let me help you now."

With a heavy sigh, she stretches her stump out towards him to make it easier and gives him the bandages. He kneels in front of her, copying the way that she had been trying to wrap the appendage. As he does, the pain from the swelling relieves as he tightens it properly. Dropping her forehead into her fingers, she tries to massage the furrow from her brow. They don't speak as he works, and in a couple of seconds, he's done.

"Thanks."

Sitting back, he looks up at Yang curiously. "I gotta know something."

Yang hums in acknowledgment. She abandons the bed, moving towards the window. Leaning against the window frame, she gazes out at the gray skies and the fallen leaves on the ground. Jaune stands by the bed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Why did you join up with us?"

The question startles her, and she turns to him. Eyebrows rising, she answers, "Because it was the right thing to do. Why do you ask?"

"It's not that simple," he insists, his eyes meeting hers. "You were happy to hide it for us, you didn't really mind one way or another what happened. The extent of your interest was to protect Ruby. You never carried signs, you never went out of your way…"

Listening intently, Yang leans against the window. It's cool against her back and shoulders, so she slides down against the window sill, enjoying the chill.

Letting out a sigh, he blurts, "It just seemed like you didn't really care what happened to the faunus or to the country. You were…busy."

"You can say it, Jaune. I was partying. Living a hedonist life."

Jaune runs his fingers through his shaggy hair, looking grateful for the woman's understanding. He relaxes after that, murmuring, "Yeah. Sorry. I just didn't want to come across like a jerk, you know? You've done a lot."

"Sure."

"So?"

Yang curls her arm around her chest, looking away thoughtfully. She has an answer, but she doesn't want to say the words in the wrong way. It was true, Yang hadn't been very concerned with the lives of the faunus or with the rights of people who weren't like her. Before then, she'd even gone as far as to believe that, because she was in a place of privilege, she had no right to speak for them. It was a question she still wasn't quite sure about the answer for. Did someone who had no clue, who didn't have to experience the same things, have any business in fighting for that cause? Did that really matter? Did her words, her actions, have any merit at all?

Yang draws in a breath, casting her gaze out the window once more as she begins, "Summer Rose, my mom, she was human. My dad was human. That meant that I lived a life of privilege. In my life, I've never experienced racism or classism, because I was born with just the right types of appendages. When you first met me, I thought that this meant I couldn't have a say. That because I didn't know what it was like, I didn't have any right to speak out against the status quo.

"My mom wasn't like that, though. She tried to teach me that it was my responsibility as someone with a voice to speak out against injustice, but I was also taught at school and whatnot, that I had no place fighting for someone who was different from me. I guess, to an extent, I do still believe that everything I do and say will be more irrelevant than the actions of a faunus because I'm a human. Ruby never let that get to her. She joined up with the Grey Fang when she was still in high school, and I only found out when I graduated. She started attending the protests, started carrying the signs – part of the cavalry. Eventually, even a leader.

"I had to protect her, but I didn't want to kid myself into believing that anything I could do could possibly matter. Even after she and my father died… the reason for my involvement was less about the faunus and more about fighting their bill of censorship. Books, stories, those mattered to me and that was something I could speak out for. And then I met Blake."

Jaune's eyes soften at that. He nods.

"I never thought I'd fall in love with a faunus," Yang admits, smiling to herself. The thought of Blake made her heart ache in yearning and sadness, but shining through all of that was an emotion so pure and powerful, it cleaned her soul of any bitterness she could possibly feel. It was like an energy, rushing inside of her. "It was short, but… Blake changed me. I got to see what it meant to be of faunus descent, and I got to see what it meant for a faunus to stand on their own in this country. She was strong, but without allies, without a voice, she'd get caught up in this world. Blake made me realize what my mom was trying to tell me, all those years ago."

"What's that?" he asks, attentive.

"Even if our experiences are different, doing the right thing has its own merit," the woman says, pushing herself from the wall. She approaches Jaune and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I don't need to have experienced the faunus life to do the right thing. I owe them that because of what my species' privilege has meant for them."

Jaune nods, and smiles at her. "I thought I'd have to pull teeth for a good answer."

"Just bandages. I might ask you to tighten them later," Yang half-jokes. She moves passed him to the door. "Come on, there's gotta be something interesting happening downstairs."

"Weiss is here, too, by the way," he tells her as they go down the hall. "She told me not to wake you up if you were resting."

"She worries too much."

"You haven't given her much of a reason not to," he points out.

"I'm fine."

"You lost an arm."

Yang rolls her eyes. "A lot of people have lost a lot more than that. I still have the other one, don't I?"

"That's…definitely an optimistic way to look at it."

When they get downstairs, Pyrrha and Weiss are chatting in the kitchen. The red-haired woman had Weiss smiling and laughing quietly, which was a welcome sight for Yang. The Senator as of late had only looked incredibly worried and stressed. When she and Jaune join them, they talk for a good hour just in the kitchen, like old friends do.

The days pass slowly. Weiss's cabin was far removed from the rest of civilization in the country and would provide a safe haven for them for nearly as long as they needed. But Yang knew it wasn't forever. She had to build herself up again.

In the mornings, she walks out to the back of the house to chop wood. Her left arm is powerful enough to do the job, and slowly gets used to the extra work.

After another week or so, she ditches the bandages entirely, and her sutures come out. The stump is still scarred and ugly, but at least it wasn't anywhere near as itchy. At some point, she realizes she can wiggle the flesh at the tip of the stump by flexing her deltoid, which has led to more entertainment than she's proud of.

Late at night, she keeps herself up with thoughts of Blake. She worries about her and almost constantly asks Weiss or Jaune if they've managed to confirm her safety. She's been met with not much success, and the stress of that doubles every night. She's contemplated sending a message over the phone, but quickly puts down any of those ideas. A message like that could put her in serious danger. Additionally, Blake wasn't an idiot. She would've thrown away her phone, erased every trace of her as she could.

 _I hope._

Yang swallows, glancing down at her feet. She thrusts the hatchet's tip into the wood and plops down on the tree stump, her mind grinding over the safety of the faunus once more.

"Damn it," she growls, angry at her inability to do anything. Jaune had said she had seemed optimistic, but really she hates every second she has to spend not fighting and protecting people. Absent-mindedly, she rubs at her stump.

She's not sure how long she's there dwelling on her negativity when a car pulls up to the side of the building. Her hand goes to the axe defensively until she sees inside the car, and Professor Glynda Goodwitch is pulling up along with Senator Branwen in her passenger seat.

Yang's eyebrows rise and she stands up, striding towards them.

Senator Branwen's connection to the Grey Fang was typical. He was a close family friend, and the blood-related brother to Yang's actual mother – which, she supposes, makes him her uncle. Recently, he has had to keep his involvement with the faunus and faunuskind on the low, or he'd risk exposure to their whole organization. Glynda got involved through him, a more recent member of the Grey Fang, but a long outspoken activist.

"Good afternoon," the blonde calls, watching as the two get out of the vehicle. "Glad to see you both in one piece. Heading east?"

Glynda shakes her head. "No. Not just yet."

Yang frowns. Why were people so slow to get out of the country? Why stay?

Qrow brushes his bangs back, away from his face. His gray hair sticks up on end, lending a sort of serious demeanor to his presence. Maroon eyes narrow as their eyes meet. Instantly, Yang realizes how serious he needs her to be. She furrows her brow.

"What's going on, Qrow?"

"They're starting to barrel bomb blocks at a time," he tells her, his hand resting on his hip. "Any district that has any rumors of Grey Fang activity is being destroyed."


End file.
